The Demon I Cling To
by KhrisCHAN
Summary: Stiles wants to help Derek. Derek/Stiles Full summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Teen Wolf or the characters.

Summary: There is a bittersweet stillness that settles over Beacon Hills after Derek slays the Alpha and Scott now has a silent treaty with the Argents. It's a week after that stressful night and no one has seen heads or tails of Derek since. Stiles can't help but fidget when his thoughts come across the new Alpha. He knows it's dangerous but something inside is pulling Stiles towards the tragic Hale property. He blames it on reckless curiosity now that things are "boring" again.

Pairings: Derek/Stiles, Scott/Allison, Jackson/Lydia, FRIENDSHIP! Danny/Stiles

Rated:T

AN: I put off watching the last episode of Teen Wolf for weeks but just last night I watched the hell out of that episode and then this plot kept poking at me. I'm not a hyperventilating fan of this show so facts may be twisted and thrown out the window all together but I'll do my best to keep to them and research what I don't remember. This IS a SLASH so beware and secretly enjoy! You know who you are! Also in this story I made Lydia come back to the living instead of staying bed ridden and comatose!

**The Demon I Cling To**

ONE

Stiles watched in slight disgust as his best friend threw a discreet note onto Allison's desk. They've been passing that same folded paper back and forth for half the class already and it didn't look like the two would quit until the end. Even though the love birds sat in the back, it didn't take binoculars to see that they weren't paying attention to the lecture taking place by the black board. Between Scott's shit eating grins and Allison's constant turning to look at him with goo goo eyes, they were quite transparent. But since it was Friday even the teachers were lax in their discipline.

Stiles' facial muscle developed a subconscious twitch as he noticed Scott began to twirl a lock of Allison's brunette hair around his finger. Truly a nauseating thing to witness.

Looking back at his notebook and surveying the half assed attempt at taking notes, Stiles held back a sigh that would've encompassed all the forlornness he felt growing inside him. Now that his best friend had his somewhat happy ending, the need for Stiles had grown small and with that their friendship was on the back burner. Unlike Scott the Sherriff's son didn't have a girl friend to possess his every waking moment nor did he have other close friends. It made Stiles long for Scott to need him again. To help save the day. Not that Stiles was praying for a new disaster to befall his friend or anything. He just wanted to be important to someone once more. Before Allison came, Scott was always by Stiles' side and vice versa. It was like Stiles was having withdrawal symptoms. But wouldn't anyone feel lonely if their only best friend in the world was occupied by love all the time?

But it wasn't entirely Scott's fault that the werewolf didn't notice the chasm he was unintentionally creating between the two of them. It was partially Stiles' fault as well. He could easily bring up that they don't spend enough time together anymore and maybe fix this whole lonesome feeling with one long discussion. But there was a part of Stiles that felt like perhaps he would be asking too much. Perhaps this is what's supposed to happen at this age.

Maybe hanging out with your best guy friend all the time was for middle schoolers. He didn't want to seem like a nag. It didn't help that his brain brought up the fact that the two only spoke during school hours now, maybe a few texts to make sure everything was alright on the werewolf/Argent front.

Stiles thought about trying to make some new friends and immediately thought of Lydia. His heart slightly ached when he brought his eyes over to her side of the classroom. Her blood orange hair was perfectly styled and make up done up professionally. She looked amazing for someone who was mauled just last Friday. Of course she had to take it slow and only started to attend school yesterday but she was back. And by back Stiles meant _really_ back. She wasn't the slightly decent girl he had taken to the formal dance anymore. No. That was like the eye of a hurricane—deceptively peaceful and tranquil. Lydia was her old self now. Stiles had confirmed it when he had boldly welcomed her back to school. Her light brown eyes looked confused when he talked to her; her body leaning away from him in obvious discomfort of his presence.

"Who are you again?" She tilted her head but didn't wait for a reply as she limped passed him in her fashionable flats.

After that, Stiles didn't even bother. Despite him practically saving her life and being nice to her all those years Lydia Martin's friendship was out of the question.

Then his thoughts went to Jackson Whittemore. The guy seemed off his rocker these days. He was still the most popular guy at school but Jackson had a haunted look in his eyes now when he thought people weren't looking. Stiles chalked it up to aftershock from what took place the night Peter was killed. The Co-captain of the lacrosse team was jumpy and lacked the ferocity he usually held towards others he felt were insignificant.

That Monday when they all returned to school Stiles did the humane thing and asked the boy if he was okay. That day Jackson looked as if he would keel over, all pale and sweaty with dark spots under his eyes from lack of sleep. And first thing in the morning that wasn't normal. But Stiles' well meaning concern backfired.

"Do I look like I need you checking up on me? Stay out of my way Stilinski!" With a weak but familiar shoulder brush that usually left Stiles fighting to remain on his feet, the jock left without one single glance back.

Jackson was out of the question as well. But somewhere deep inside of Stiles a strange content feeling washed over him when he noticed Lydia and Jackson were back together. In more ways than one the two deserved each other. He felt pity for them both for some strange reason.

The bell rung loudly, causing Stiles to snap out of his inner thoughts and listen as the thundering of teens with weekend plans gathered their belongings and headed out of their last class for the week. Stiles moved more slowly since he was in fact a teen _without_ weekend plans. This time Stiles allowed himself to sigh.

"What's up dude? You look really down." Stiles hadn't even moved from his seated position yet so he had to look up at Scott who gave him a curious glance.

Stiles finally stood up and wasn't surprised to see Allison standing there, waiting for her boyfriend.

"Pft. I'm fine!" Shit.

Scott raised an amused eyebrow and Stiles knew why. Lying to a werewolf was a bitch.

Stiles dropped the fake smile and dropped his eyes to his books on the desk, picking them up.

"Just go have fun with Allison, Scott. We'll talk later." Stiles took up his book bag and exited the classroom, not even bothering to stop at his locker to drop off unnecessary text books. The jeep was waiting to take him home. His boring, uneventful home for two whole days and then the cycle of life would repeat itself.

Stiles slammed the driver's side door closed after getting in, turning up the music on the radio to drown out his self pitying act.

The drive home was barely memorable. It was like he was on autopilot and somehow he reached his driveway and put the jeep in park. His dad was still working and probably would be working until night fall. In some ways Stiles welcomed the empty house. He didn't have to be okay all the time in front of his dad. He didn't have to pretend so that his father didn't feel guilty for something that was beyond his control.

Stiles went straight to his room and didn't stop until he collapsed like a pile of bricks face first onto his bedding and groaned. It felt good but also torturous at the same time. How boring. Was homework and sitting his ass in front of the computer all he had to look forward to this weekend?

His back pocket beeped twice indicating a new text.

**We r going bowling. Wanna come?**

"And be a third wheel? I think not. Have fun." Stiles thumbed his message as he spoke it aloud, the phone held above his head since he still was lying down but now on his back. Throwing the phone on to the night stand next to his bed, Stiles sighed.

Maybe he should've said yes. But he could see himself in that situation totally regretting going, sitting as an odd number out and possibly in the company of both Lydia and Jackson which made it even more obvious he was single.

No, he made the right decision.

It didn't take long for Stiles to tire of his current activity of doing absolutely nothing before he got up and made his way to the window to look outside.

It was a nice day. The sun wasn't being smothered by clouds and the sky was amazingly blue. In other words, a great day to be out _doing_ something. Stile opened up the window and poked his head out, looking at his roof which a certain werewolf used to frequently trek upon.

Derek.

Stiles let an indescribable feeling wash over him at the thought of Derek Hale. The newly upgraded alpha werewolf hasn't made contact with Scott or even Stiles since they successfully took down Peter. What was he doing out there in that dilapidated house all alone? Surely it must be boring. But considering it was indeed _Derek Hale_ he was thinking about, the man didn't look like one who actually partook in anything interesting. What does a guy like him find fun?

Stiles snorted. Working out for one. The werewolf was a bear underneath those nicely fitted shirts he wore. Derek did look like the reading type, so maybe he kept a secret stash of Twilight and other fantasy novels. Stiles laughed a little at the thought of someone as manly as Derek reading love stories. Derek also seemed like the type who would take up meditation. Stiles imagined with ease Derek sitting in the middle of the woods Indian style with his green eyes closed; a relaxed but focused look on his face. And for some reason, he was shirtless.

"I am so messed up." Stiles admitted to himself as he closed the window, his hand hovering over the lever as he thought of locking it. Should he? Any normal person would. But it made Stiles feel hollow as he pondered not having the werewolf dropping by in his room uninvited.

He left it unlocked and blamed it on being too lazy.

Taking out homework, Stiles decided to get it over with so he will have the rest of his weekend to do nothing. He was able to read one paragraph of the history assignment before his thoughts began to wander back to Derek. Was he even in Beacon Hills anymore? The man got what he came for. Revenge was accomplished so why would he bother to stay? But would he really leave without saying anything to Scott? Even Stiles felt as though the werewolf owed him at least that much courtesy since they were somewhat allies.

Did the tragic werewolf really leave his past for good this time? It was a possibility.

Shooting up out of his desk chair, Stiles knew what he was doing today and it had nothing to do with The Great Depression of 1929.

...

Drumming his fingers nervously on the steering wheel, Stiles felt his heart beat pick up in speed when he reached the familiar road leading to the Hale property. As soon as the idea struck him at home, Stiles felt possessed as he immediately got in his car and started to drive. Maybe he should've texted Scott, letting his friend know where he was going because Derek Hale was now a badass alpha. Despite Stiles suspecting the werewolf to have already vacated the premises, there was still a good chance a very powerful and uncontrollable creature of darkness was presiding there.

Stiles tried not to shiver at the thought of pissing off an even more potent Derek. But this felt like something Stiles needed to do. He had to see for himself if Derek was still in Beacon Hills. Slowing his jeep down to a crawl, Stiles procrastinated in parking once he reached the charred remains of the Hale house. A violent shiver did wrought its way down Stiles' spine. Part of him hoped that Derek was living in a better place than this. Once upon a time this house was gorgeous from studying the remains but now it was a shell that held painful memories.

Finally stopping the car completely, Stiles put it in park as his heart beat grew even faster. He was really doing this. God he must be desperate for something to do because he wasn't putting his jeep in reverse. Instead, he was getting out the jeep and shutting the door trying not to slam it shut.

It felt weird being there after that night. Seeing the newest damages inflicted on the already broken house in the daylight made it seem surreal. But Stiles always was able to adjust to the unusual better than others. But that night things had changed. Decisions were made. Derek became alpha, Scott was now a permanent werewolf, and the Argents were no longer a threat.

Stiles tried to breathe in deeply but his heart was making it difficult as he approached the porch, taking the stairs and stopping in front of the old wooden door.

Stiles decided to knock even though he was sure if Derek was still there that the incredible hearing he had would've alerted him to Stiles' presence. He heard the solid knocks echo through the cavity of the house. Moments later only the sound of nature greeted Stiles. He wanted to deny the slump in his shoulders and the dropping of his stomach. Was Derek really gone?

Surely the werewolf would menace Stiles in some way if he were here. It seemed like another pastime Derek would enjoy. Threaten Stiles. Manhandle Stiles. Insult Stiles…

Deciding to take liberties, the Sherriff's son turned the knob and pushed the door open, stepping inside.

Stiles looked around and took in all of the inner workings of the house. There was a partially blackened chandelier that still hung from the ceiling and beneath it was the charred wooden flooring which still had amazing strength in it. He looked at the walls which sported many varying sizes of holes in them from what could be fists and right in front of him were the stairs leading up to the second floor.

"…Derek? You here buddy?" He called out, wondering if he should just abandon this crazy little venture out of the boring he faced all week. There were shadows gathered all over the house in spots where the sunlight couldn't reach. It made Stiles nervous as he looked up at the top of the stairs where it grew darker.

Despite the uneasy feeling, the house felt empty. Stiles didn't think he could climb those stairs anyway.

Walking out of the front door Stiles went down the porch stairs but didn't return to his car. Instead he walked to the right side of the house, eyes growing wide at the sight of Derek's black Camero. The black paint was oddly dusted over with dry dirt and gathered on the hood were leaves which indicated the car hadn't been tended to or used for a while.

That meant Derek was still here right? Stiles' hope soared unexpectedly at the new found evidence of the werewolf's presence. But where was he? He wasn't in the house but he's not far enough away that he needed a car to get there…

"Underground maybe?" Stiles remembered Scott recapping how he was able to find the captured Derek. It was quite amazing that the Hales had built an underground cellar. Now to go about finding it.

It took thirty minutes of persistent searching to find the heavy door, but not once did the teen feel deterred in his efforts. Looking at the secluded door in triumph, Stiles felt accomplished. It was well hidden under a large hill in the earth with tree roots and mangled leaves and dirt hanging down in front of it. Stiles had to use all his might to slide the metal door open, the loud grating sound surely to alert whoever may be lurking inside the shelter.

Wishing he had a flash light, Stiles walked inside, leaving the door wide open to let as much light in as possible.

Stiles let his hand graze the cement wall to his right as he walked, his eyes trying hard to adjust to the darkness before him.

"Derek?" He spoke uncertainly; hope still wiring through his veins as well as rushing blood from his accelerated heart beat.

There was a faint growl, the sound made Stiles stop his progression forward. His breath caught from surprise and his eyes were wide in slight fear.

"Derek, please say something. Y-you're freaking me out!" Stiles called into the dark passage.

There was a louder growl that resounded through the narrow hall and a light tapping of feet against the cement floor. It was getting closer. Stiles' heart was hammering now fighting to break out and run away unlike Stiles who stayed put; hand clutching the wall rigidly as he continued to peer into the black.

Stiles finally felt his feet again as he stumbled back at the eyes now glowing on him were blood red. The pattering of bare feet stopped and came no closer, but the eyes stilled burned through the darkness.

"Leave." It was more of a growl than a human voice. But Stiles heard the familiar disdain in that one word that only one Derek Hale could muster.

For the first time in a while, Stiles sported a real smile.

"No." Stiles replied back just as shortly, making sure to sound obstinate.

"Leave or I _will_ kill you! Do you not get how dangerous it is for you to be here? _Go_!"

Stiles jumped as the foundation shook when something hard impacted it. This was Derek's attempt at scaring Stiles off, he knew. And man was it on the verge of working. Those ruby eyes were more intimidating than the ice blue that Stiles was surprised he was now in favor of.

"You know, you are like that kid who cried wolf too many times. I don't believe you'll hurt me. You're not that kind of…um werewolf or person. Were-person!" Stiles failed at eloquence.

There was an irritated and exasperated growl that followed his words that was very much a Derek trademark when it came to talking to either Scott or Stiles.

"I'm not...I'll never be the same person I was before I slit my uncle's throat. Look at me." The red eyes blinked slowly, darkening the passage for a split second before opening again. If it weren't for those eyes being at the height of a man, Stiles would have thought a beast was right beyond his sight.

Stiles slowly started to back away into the light of day coming into the shelter through that one entry way.

"Come into the light, I can't see you like I know you can see me."

There was a low growl and an immediate thundering of feet. Before Stiles knew it, Derek Hale was right in front of his face. Snarling with fangs bared and eyes still glowing red even in the daylight, Derek looked…_wild._ Dirt was smeared all over his badly tattered clothes and face, his usually tamed stubble now thick and on the verge of being a beard, and his hair was covered in dirt and unkempt. Not to mention the guy was bare foot.

Breathing heavily from the shock of having an alpha werewolf hovering over him, Stiles had to force himself to stay put.

Derek indeed wasn't the same.

...

**AN**: Sorry for the mistakes. Review if you liked it!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Teen Wolf or its characters.

Summary: There is a bittersweet stillness that settles over Beacon Hills after Derek slays the Alpha and Scott now has a silent treaty with the Argents. It's a week after that stressful night and no one has seen heads or tails of Derek since. Stiles can't help but fidget when his thoughts come across the new Alpha. He knows it's dangerous but something inside is pulling Stiles towards the tragic Hale property. He blames it on reckless curiosity now that things are "boring" again.

Pairings: Derek/Stiles, Scott/Allison, Jackson/Lydia, FRIENDSHIP! Danny/Stiles

Rated:T

AN: Thank you for all of your AMAZING reviews. I literally jumped around my house for a few minutes in a fit of joy! You guys make it so worth updating and keep my soul motivated. Dramatic much? But it's TRUE! Thanks again and here's the new chapter :D

**The Demon I Cling To**

TWO

"Do you see now? Leave!" Derek barked, his nose wrinkled and fangs showed with the ferocity of the command, making him look like a dog which was about to bite. Stiles couldn't help but stumble back from the yell and his heel got caught on an uplifted root which caused him to fall heavily onto the ground in front of the cellar opening.

Derek stood there panting, barely in control of what was inside of him. His hands clutched either side of the doorway and Stiles noticed his claws had come forth and were leaving marks on the metal.

Derek seemed to notice Stiles' worried stare at his now lethal weapons and took what looked like a calming breath. The claws were now regular dirtied finger nails again but Derek's incisors still remained the fangs and his eyes their blood red. But there was something that Stiles caught as he looked up at the alpha werewolf. There was an emotion on Derek's face that shook Stiles in a manner he wasn't used to feeling for anyone except his father and Scott. The man before him looked empty and defeated. Stiles was concerned.

"Leave." Derek said in a quiet voice that sounded more like his natural tone and stepped back, sliding the heavy metal door close with ease. Dirt and leaves rained down as it slammed shut and to Stiles misfortune he heard metal turning which indicated the door was now locked securely.

Stiles didn't waste time in standing up and walked the small distance back to the door, banging on it.

"Hey! You can't do this to yourself! Come out, I want to talk to you!" Stiles yelled but knew for a fact if he had spoken normally the werewolf would have heard him just fine. But he figured the more irritating he is the more the man will respond. So he continued pounding away on the metal, his fists hurting.

"Derek! You can't just stay in there forever! Y-you have to eat and take a piss at some point! We have to talk! Derek!"

The man on the other side of the door stayed silent. He wasn't answering to Stiles' provocations which slightly unnerved the teen. Something was wrong with Derek and usually the werewolf was the one who was in control and steadfast. The man before him was…not Derek.

Giving one last painful bang against the unyielding metal, Stiles kicked the door once in a fit of complete irritation.

"Fine! Stay in there like Quasimodo, but I'll be back! Everyday! Until you come out and _talk_ to me!" Stiles yelled in finality and bumped his forehead against the door and just rested it there for a moment.

Why was he doing this? Why was he here trying to talk to a man on the verge of being a monster? They weren't close friends; they knew nothing of each other despite what had needed to be known. They shared no interests and hardly shared respect for one another. So why did Stiles undoubtedly _care_? It confused him to no end.

"See you tomorrow." Stiles spoke normally this time backing away and heading towards his jeep and the Hale house.

...

On Saturday morning Stiles woke and sat up straight in his bed with the decision to have a picnic in the middle of the woods next to a questionable cellar, just talking to himself. First he had breakfast with his father who seemed to have an easier work load since everything calmed down in the werewolf district. Then he finished up his homework in record timing and promptly left at noon to stop at a fast food joint for his "picnic". He had ordered four burgers and two drinks (two burgers and a drink were for Derek).

Now Stiles was sitting there, enjoying his meal talking on and on about Scott and Allison's unusual relationship and other pointless matters. Despite the novelty of his dedication in helping Derek, Stiles didn't fight the need to be there for someone; even if it was for an alpha werewolf. Stiles had thought about it all yesterday night. Why did he care? Well it's mostly because Stiles was pretty lonely. And it's obvious that Derek is alone as well. He has no one. At least Stiles had his father's unconditional love and support but the werewolf behind that door…he was utterly alone. And that made Stiles care. No one deserved to be as deserted as Derek was at this moment. The man had a hard life so far and if Stiles didn't do something he feared it'd only get worse.

"So yeah that's why I think those two should be separated every other day are so. I mean if we let them continue on being glued to the lips it'd cause them to form this magical bond which has the possibility of being fatal. Say like if a tornado swept Scott a mile away, one of them might _die_ from the distance apart. I've seen it on TV once."

"Lydia and Jackson are back together. Disgusting right? But I'm not jealous or anything. I think I stopped liking her the moment she decided to go searching for Jackson which almost got her killed. I really did like her though. She has something amazing inside her that she hides in exchange for popularity. But I'm tired of being treated like I'm nothing…I am something right?"

The meaningless talk had taken a turn as Stiles asked that question. Not wanting to go down that road, Stiles laughed uncomfortably and instead changed the subject to looking forward to the new Batman movie coming out next year.

It was now Monday and Stiles still hadn't made much progress with Derek. The only positive sign from the whole thing was that the food he had left outside the door had miraculously disappeared. Stiles knew it could just be wild animals or Derek throwing the food away but the teen liked to think differently.

He still vehemently had the will to go and talk to Derek again today. He was pretty focused on getting Derek to stop acting like a plague victim and at least open up to the teen. Stiles wasn't afraid of how long it would take. He had _nothing_ else if not time.

Stiles fidgeted in English class, his thoughts on what he should talk about next. Stiles felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Dude what's up with you? Did you take too much of your medication?" Scott asked quietly close to Stiles' ear.

Rolling his eyes, Stiles spoke under his hand so the teacher won't see his lips moving.

"I'm fine. Just bored. I think you should pay attention though, aren't you failing this class?" Stiles didn't mean to almost snap at his friend but after that lousy invite to a group date, Scott hadn't talked to him again at all that weekend. So he couldn't help the betrayal he felt when his supposed best friend didn't want to hang out anymore. What little pride he had was making it easier to push Scott away also so he didn't end up the only one trying to keep a dying friendship alive.

"Allison will help me." Stiles could almost hear the grin in Scott's voice; apparently Stiles' hurt feelings went unnoticed by the teen werewolf.

Stiles said nothing more.

So what was he going to talk _at_ Derek about today?

"This time I brought a whole bag of Kiss chocolates! I kind of had a debate on whether werewolves could eat chocolate or not considering you are part dog but I think you'll be fine if you eat them when you're more human than werewolf. I didn't know what kind you liked but I could totally see you as a chocolate caramel swirl kind of guy. Oh shit, what if they melt? I think you should come out here and take them before they melt."

Stiles tried without any real conviction behind it, because there was no way Derek Hale would step out of his dank hole just for a bag of chocolates. And if he did, well Stiles figured he would've seen everything then. But the world around him remained silent. Sometimes Stiles had tried to open the door but Derek seemed adamant on locking it after their first encounter. This little act of his was beginning to become reminiscent of a stubborn child not wanting to come out of his room.

Stiles sighed and put the candy right in front of the threshold where he had left a McDonald's bag yesterday which was nowhere to be seen now. Taking a seat a few feet away from the door, Stiles didn't feel like spouting random and mindless chatter today. But he also didn't want to sit in total silence either. How was he supposed to convince the werewolf to come out of his den that way?

"I'm not entirely sure why you're behaving like this…but I thought about it and I have some theories." Stiles started off with caution, not wanting to say the wrong thing.

"…One, you are really depressed. You're family was taken from you and then your sister, and finally you had to kill your last living relative—a crazy uncle who wouldn't've been so crazy in the first place if not for the fire…Now that that is over, I think maybe you have given up."

Keeping his eyes trained to the ground and fingers playing with the fallen leaves, Stiles paused and listened to a crow call out but it wasn't a sound he wanted to hear. So he continued.

"…Two. You've been a werewolf all your life—that's nothing new—but you never were an Alpha. Does it scare you? The way you pushed me away that day I first found you…it made me think that you're afraid of what you are now. Is that it?"

Stiles was silent again, tearing a leaf carefully on a vein so that the tear would glide easily.

Snorting at a sudden thought in his head Stiles let a bit of awkwardness tinge his voice, "You're probably wondering why I'm here doing this, probably thinking I'm crazy…I don't know how it came to be that I _care_ what happens to you…but I do. Weird isn't it? I don't like it to be honest. For the past few months all you did was threaten me, ridicule me, and occasionally harm me, but…somehow I still think of you as someone I don't hate. And you acting this way…it bothers me."

The silence after was mortifying. Stiles pretty much felt as if he made a confession to a man that most likely finds him annoying and is probably seething behind that metal door. Stiles hardly ever talked about his feelings for someone else and if he did, the conversation was as uncomfortable as pulling teeth. Stiles figured it must have been easier since he wasn't actually looking at the person who he was talking to. That had to be it.

The tranquility that followed his words though was expected but still a letdown.

Stiles groaned and reclined until he was on his back, looking up at the climbing trees up towards the sky. It had a milky white look today, the light from the sun grey instead of its usual vigorous glow. Maybe it'd rain soon. California always needed rain.

"Can you smell if it will rain soon? Should I leave? But it's still so early." There was nothing to do at home, no one to talk to there. All he had was homework and sleep to look forward to if he left. Despite never seeing Derek, Stiles found he liked it out here. It was peaceful and there was a good feeling that rose in him every time he arrived and it stayed long after he left. And these visits had him looking forward to tomorrow which made Stiles gawk at this strange revelation. He was telling the truth when he told Derek he didn't like the concern he felt for the man. And each new developing positive association to the harsh werewolf caused Stiles' natural defenses to rise to shut it out.

But the walls were always broken down at the thought of _not_ coming to this isolated place where a jaded man went unnoticed. Stiles knew that this was bigger than some grudge he might have held against Derek at one point in their acquaintanceship. And—Stiles hardly let his mind whisper the thought let alone consider it fully—just _maybe_ he could find the friendship he wanted from Derek besides Scott.

All the thinking was driving him nuts. Stiles let out a major yawn that almost split a dry spot on his bottom lip.

Even though the sun was masked by the thick smearing of clouds, the sky was still hurting his eyes so the teen covered them with the crook of his elbow; the darkness was a welcoming comfort. Stiles had Lacrosse practice an hour ago and everyone on the team thought it'd be funny to pick on him the entire time. And on a particular play, Coach had Stiles repeat over and over again a technique that the teen just couldn't accomplish. And it didn't help that he never slept well at night. He was _tired_.

"Come out Derek, I just…want to…help." Stiles half mumbled, half slurred his words as his brain started to muffle from the exhaustion he felt.

The last thought he could muster was maybe he shouldn't be dozing off here but Stiles' aching body didn't comply with his brain to get up and go home. It didn't take long at all for the teen's brain to go completely blank.

...

It got darker faster since the sun was already masked by the trees and the clouds so only a small amount of light remained as afternoon became evening. A body lay stationary on the forest floor, his light breathing and constant heart beat the only signals he was sleeping instead of dead. Everything around him was quiet.

A metallic lock clicked and a heavy door slid open, not disturbing the slumbering person in front of it. Derek Hale looked down at his feet and sneered at a bag of foil covered chocolates that innocently sat on the ground before him. Kicking the candy aside, Derek walked forward until his bare feet were next to the boy's head; the werewolf's intense gaze peered downward with unreadable intent.

...

Unconsciousness broke like an overstretched rubber band and had Stiles vaulting upward at a dizzying pace. His mind raced in every direction because he couldn't remember falling asleep. Where was he? What time was it? What _day_ was it? _Who_ was he? It was all very confusing for a split second as his half awake brain tried to connect the dots.

Pressing a palm to his spinning head, Stiles looked around. He happened to be on a small cot that was supported by a metal frame which jutted from the cement wall behind him. There was a dim electronic lamp on a desk that was fashioned to look like a gas lamp but produced a white LED lighting in the entirely cemented room. No windows. This made Stiles feel somewhat claustrophobic.

Where the hell was he? How did he get here?

But there was a familiar feeling to this place that Stiles couldn't connect until he did a moment later.

The forest! Derek! Talking! Then lying down…then…

"I'm in the cellar?" Stiles said out loud, ignoring the vertigo he felt and stood up. Stiles went for the only light source in the shadow filled chamber and picked it up, making the shadows dance and shift as he walked out of the room and into a hallway.

He looked both to his left and right wondering where he would find the werewolf before heading further down into the cavity in the earth. There were only two other rooms which were vacant of Derek Hale and filled with furniture and items that didn't register in Stiles' mind. All he wanted was to lay eyes on the man who had brought him in here.

He walked down the passage until he reached the only exit out of the cellar. The door was already slid open but Stiles hadn't noticed because of how dark it now was outside. Widening his eyes in surprise, he reached into his back pocket for his cell phone and yanked it out in a hurry. It was now ten o'clock!

"Shit!" Stiles swore but was relieved that the phone showed no missed calls from his father so that meant the man must still be at work. Sighing as the tension left his body; the teen held the light out in front of him and walked slowly away from the cellar. The trees and the ground looked different at night even though he frequented his visits to this very same spot.

"Derek?" The sound echoed, which Stiles didn't notice before. It made this whole thing a tad bit more eerie. Good things never came from being in the woods at night for the citizens of Beacon Hills.

A twig snapped from a weighted foot somewhere behind Stiles which had the teen whirling around to point the light in that direction. The eyes glinted at the shock of light and soon were glowing that deep red as they got closer and Derek's features became more prominent.

Stiles didn't know if he should be comforted or on edge.

Looking down at Derek's worse for wear white shirt…there was blood smeared all down the front. Stiles tensed and subconsciously backed away.

"Uh, what's with the mass murderer T-shirt?" Stiles' humor failed to be humorous even to his own ears.

He watched as Derek looked down disinterestedly at the blood and looked back at him.

"This bothers you?" Derek asked. Stiles noticed his voice wasn't quite as raspy. He seemed calmer than the last time the teen had seen him.

Stiles rolled his eyes, "No. I was just wondering how you got the blood to fly in beautiful arcs like that because I want one just like it. Of course it bothers me!"

The werewolf did something that had Stiles even more tense. He smirked. The look was quite disconcerting and had the teen wondering if this would be his last night on Earth.

"Come. I'll lead you back to the jeep. Knowing you, you'll get lost and eaten." Derek turned and began to walk back the way he came from, not looking to see if Stiles was following.

Stiles, feeling like he had no other choice, began his slow trek after the eccentric werewolf; but stayed completely on his guard just in case Derek would try something. But try what? If the man really wanted to kill him wouldn't he had done it while Stiles was completely helpless? Still, what was with the blood?

The two walked in silence at a slow pace with Stiles tripping over every lift and dip in the ground while Derek was graceful. It came to a point in the journey where Stiles had cautiously sidled up beside Derek, still looking curiously at the tainted shirt the man seemed so nonchalant about.

Derek seemed to feel Stile's gaze and looked at the teen that didn't stop staring at his broad torso.

"The blood," Derek began, getting Stiles to look into his wild red eyes, "is not human."

The trees thinned out and Stiles could see his jeep sitting in the half moon's light. He didn't hide his heavy sigh at the sight of her.

Derek stopped walking abruptly when they reached the edge of the woods and didn't move from that spot which made Stiles stop walking too and he turned around. He sensed that this was goodbye awkwardly handed off the camp light which Derek took and turned off.

The two just looked at each other. Stiles was wondering what to say. He had finally got to be in the werewolf's presence and the teen was lost for words. What was he supposed to do now? Would this be the only chance to see Derek before the man became a complete introvert again?

Derek shifted his feet to start facing the woods so Stiles blurted out in his need to say _something_.

"Thanks," This had Derek looking back at Stiles with an emotionless stare; waiting to hear more.

"Uh, you know. Thanks for not leaving me out in the woods to get eaten by a colony of traveling ants and thanks for leading me back to the house." Stiles looked anywhere else other than at Derek who—at a quick glance—was now giving him an amused look.

"At one point, while you were unconscious, I was considering—

Derek stopped himself from talking; an incredulous and then agitated look grew on his face which confused Stiles.

"Considering what?" Stiles' curiosity peaked, heart skipping from anticipation.

Closing his eyes, Derek looked troubled with his thick eyebrows furrowing before the two red orbs showed once more with an intensity and determination that Stiles wondered what had brought it on.

Teeth clenched in what looked to be painfully tight hold, making the werewolf's jaw flex, Derek seemed to be restraining himself.

"Go home, Stiles." Derek left no room for argument in that command. Even if Stiles wasn't a werewolf who had to answer to a hierarchy he could feel himself wanting to obey the alpha anyway.

Derek had already begun walking back into the woods.

"I'll be back tomorrow!" Stiles shouted confidently with a creeping smile of triumph.

"Do as you wish." Was the short unenthusiastic reply.

...

**AN:** What do you guys think? Does Derek Hale seem like a chocolate and caramel swirl kind of guy? Sorry for any mistakes. PLEASE review if you liked it!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Teen Wolf or its characters.

Summary: There is a bittersweet stillness that settles over Beacon Hills after Derek slays the Alpha and Scott now has a silent treaty with the Argents. It's a week after that stressful night and no one has seen heads or tails of Derek since. Stiles can't help but fidget when his thoughts come across the new Alpha. He knows it's dangerous but something inside is pulling Stiles towards the tragic Hale property. He blames it on reckless curiosity now that things are "boring" again.

Pairings: Derek/Stiles, Scott/Allison, Jackson/Lydia, FRIENDSHIP! Danny/Stiles

Rated:T

**AN:** I'm BACK! A quick note: Stiles will be spending a lot of time at the Hale property so if architecture doesn't match up with the original in the show I am sorry, please don't throw tomatoes at me! *bows* Thank you for all of your reviews! I never get tired of reading them, you guys are amazing. I hope you enjoy this chapter! :D

**The Demon I Cling To**

THREE

Stiles drove in a trance all the way home. His thoughts were an incessant stream of what had taken place not even twenty minutes ago. He could feel the largest grin pulling at his lips. But when he drove up to his house, Stiles' heart plummeted at the familiar squad car stationary in the driveway. Sherriff Stilinski was home and probably sitting in a dark corner waiting for his son to sneak in at eleven o'clock at night _on_ a school night so that he can turn on a lamp that'll reveal the man's withering look.

Okay so Stiles watched too many teen movies. But still he fully expected to be grilled once he stepped foot inside. He could say he was over at Scott's but thought better of it. His dad probably already called and confirmed Stiles hadn't graced them with his presence so lying was out of the question.

He got out of his jeep and took his bag with him, dreading the homework and the confrontation soon coming his way all at the same time. The teen didn't even bother with attempting to be quiet. Lights in the living room were on and that was enough indication to tell Stiles his father was awake.

As soon as he walked inside the house, Stiles set eyes on his father who was still in uniform and looking particularly intimidating in his tired state. He grew to recognize the man's temper, how it would flare when he was exhausted and this lead to his patience always running out quickly.

Squaring back tense shoulders, Stiles prepared to embrace his father's lecture.

"Hey dad, I'm so—

Sherriff Stilinski raised a heavy head to look at his son who stood beside the couch he retired on and interrupted.

"Hey! How's the project coming along?" Stiles took in his father's relaxed shoulders and that slight smile with a confused look of his own.

What the hell?

"Uh…p-project?" Stiles asked weakly.

The Sherriff gave his son a look and rolled tired eyes, "The one you were supposed to be working on at Scott's house tonight. Don't tell me you boys just played video games the whole time."

Stiles had to keep from widening his eyes in shock. So his dad did call Scott and Scott…covered for him? Stiles quickly recovered.

"Oh _that_ project! Sorry dad, my brain malfunctioned because…of the project. We worked really hard on it." Stiles yawned just to lay it on thick, "So tired. I think I'll go to bed now. G'night dad."

The teen rushed past his father to make his way up the stairs, tripped on the first step in his rush and recovered with little dignity. Once Stiles was safely behind his bedroom door and out from under that accusatory glare, he allowed a look of fondness to grace his face. Scott saved him big time.

Stiles began grabbing at his pockets on the cargo pants he wore, searching desperately for his cell phone. He found it in his back pocket and right when he was about to check his missed calls, the phone came to life with an incoming call.

Looking at the caller ID, he smirked and accepted.

"Thanks, Scott. You are officially the man!" He said immediately, smiling full on now.

Scott's voice filled his ear in an attempt at sounding arrogant. "Well of course. But Stiles…where _were_ you? When your father called me thirty minutes ago, my mind was racing and I tried calling you like fifty times and you didn't answer."

Stiles felt somewhat guilty as he scratched the back of his head, "Sorry man, I just…sorta fell asleep in the jeep after practice. I guess I didn't hear the phone ringing when I was driving home."

It felt good to be able to lie to the young werewolf and not get caught. Surely Scott couldn't hear his heart over the phone.

"…Oh. Yeah I saw that you had a hard time with Finstock. I was thinking maybe I can help you this weekend, we could go to the park."

Stiles stifled a question he wanted an answer to since he figured it'd be too much to ask. Despite that, the teen felt a warm feeling growing inside at the offer.

"Thanks Scott, I could use the help since I'm like an invalid out there."

Scott snickered, probably nodding his head much to Stiles' chagrin. A silence followed for a moment and Stiles was about to ask something when Scott beat him to it.

"Hey um, well I better let you go. I'm sure you got a hell of a lot of homework—

"I do but listen; I wanted to ask you something…" Stiles trailed off, unsure how he was going to phrase his question so as not to raise any alarms in his best friend.

"Sure."

"It's about Derek…do you think he's doing alright after everything that's happened? He hasn't contacted us since that night. Don't you think it's weird?"

There was a heavy sigh from Scott and Stiles knew that meant the werewolf wasn't quite ready to talk about what happened the last time they were all together. Derek had taken away the chance for Scott to choose his fate. That didn't sit well with Scott at all and he was stone faced for quite awhile after that night. But Stiles found himself wondering if his best friend would have really chosen to be fully human again. Could he have gone back to being absolutely normal?

"I don't know, Stiles. He's probably living it up somewhere far away from here. And frankly, I could care less. We did what we needed to do and now it's done. Forget about him."

Stiles nodded, "Yeah, you're right. I'll see you tomorrow. Thanks again, Scott."

"You owe me one. See ya."

Ending the call, Stiles bit his lip in a pensive manner. Well, there goes his plan on telling Scott everything that happened today. He didn't want to cause his friend to face the man who changed his life forever. Nor did he want an already explosive alpha to face a wrathful beta. Those two had to be apart for now. But that didn't stop Stiles from thinking about tomorrow and visiting Derek. Sure, the nagging guilt was there but he thought of his position as being Switzerland. And also Scott wasn't there. He didn't witness how Derek had reacted when Stiles found him. The teen felt obligated to do anything he could for the unfortunate man. That would have to be enough for Scott when the time came for the younger werewolf to know.

He couldn't help the smile growing on his face. Unintentionally, Stiles had succeeded in talking to the man. Hopefully that "do as you like" meant that Stiles was "in" and the werewolf wouldn't hide away anymore. Derek had proven to the teen that what he is now wasn't as bad as he made it out to be. He's still Derek Hale under those gleaming red orbs.

...

**(Tuesday Afternoon)**

Stiles was pleasantly surprised to find the werewolf at his house rather than at the cellar in the woods. The teen felt exhausted since he stayed up late last night finishing homework. Going through the woods, evading prickly vines and spider webs was not fun while being physically and mentally depleted.

Derek was on the porch, doing sit ups; his naked torso moved swiftly on command without pause from aching muscles. Up, down, up, down…

Stiles wished he was that strong. He could barely do thirty in a row. This made the Sherriff's son curious as he climbed the steps.

"How many of those can you do exactly?" He asked transfixed as Derek continued his even pace without fail.

Derek had his eyes fixed in front of him and Stiles could see that they were actually green for once. But when those misty green eyes made contact with his, Derek's movements stopped after he was sitting up again and those human eyes bled red once more. The transition wasn't only noticed by Stiles but also by the werewolf as he grimaced and hid those orbs behind closed eyelids; growling out his frustration.

The growl showed off his sharp incisors. Stiles went backwards down the steps and sat on the last one, making himself lower than the alpha and faced the woods; hoping that Derek wouldn't try and kill him with his back turned.

"Sorry! Wait. Why am I apologizing?" Stiles was perplexed but still felt apologetic. He couldn't hear any changes in position from the man behind him and that made Stiles relax a little.

The stillness that followed was awkward but told Stiles that Derek wasn't on edge anymore since there were no low growls being emitted from a deep chest. He tried talking again.

"You're outside. I was half expecting you to be closed up again." Stiles spoke truthfully, looking over his shoulder to see that Derek was still sitting sideways, elbows now resting on lifted knees and eyes straight forward and frowning. The man still looked disheveled with dirt smeared on his clear skin and hair free from its usual gel prison but at least he wasn't hiding.

It was easy to just play with his hands or pull at the splintering wood on the step but god was it hard to get a response from Derek. But it was a good thing that Stiles was an inherent incessant talker.

"Why did I set you off like that? I know you heard me coming a quarter of a mile away so…what was that?"

"That's the extent of my control when I lose focus or when I'm in the presence of others. Basically both just happened at once." Derek answered in a monotone voice.

Stiles whipped his head around, his heart pounding, "Did…did you hurt someone?"

He couldn't say kill. But a memory pushed forth from yesterday. That shirt splattered with blood…Surely whatever was the victim of the alpha's teeth and claws hadn't survived that night.

Still staring, the teen watched as Derek's head dipped down but a second later was lifted and facing Stiles with a hard look.

"Yes."

Gulping, Stiles failed at hiding the apprehension he felt but he couldn't tell who it was for.

"Who was it?" He asked with a numb tongue, lips still parted as he sucked in air.

Those red eyes seemed unfocused as if he was remembering the incident at that very moment. Dragging a cruddy hand over his face, Derek answered in a low voice.

"The kid who wanted so desperately to be turned."

Eyes widening and mouth fully agape, Stiles erected to his full height, looking disbelieving.

"_Jackson_? You killed Jackson?"

Derek growled loudly, also getting to his feet which had him towering over Stiles and looking pissed off.

"No Stiles, I didn't _kill_ him! Didn't you see him at school today, you idiot?"

Stiles was about to burst out his own argument when the logical words reached his brain, his mouth snapped closed only to open with a more rational out come.

"Oh. Yeah." Scratching the back of his head, Stiles wished he could escape that condescending look he was receiving right now. Every emotion the werewolf directed at the teen was intensified by those creepy eyes. Stiles wondered if he'd ever get use to them.

"So what _did_ happen?" Stiles pressed, settling back down but now sitting sideways with his legs spread out and his back resting on the railing.

Stiles watched as Derek began to pace but abruptly stopped and took that calming breath Stiles had witnessed once prior to this right before the werewolf retracted his claws. When Derek opened his eyes, he walked to the top step and sat down there with his bare dirty feet below him. Stiles noticed they were only a few steps apart. But he thought nothing about his close proximity to the werewolf.

"After slitting my uncle's throat, the change was immediate. It felt amazing to be this powerful. But slowly that feeling began to ebb away as I started to have…urges that never were like me before. I was fighting to hold it back in front of you all. Desperately so."

Stiles listened intently, his brown eyes taking in Derek looking far away as he recounted the past.

"…That night after you and the rest left from here, Jackson came back late. He insisted that I change him. At that point I had already lost any semblance of myself before the change and I was at battle with the power inside of me. So as this kid…this _human_ kid, vulnerable with the scent of fear spilling from his pores approached me…I couldn't stop the predatory instincts that kicked in.

"It was so unlike me. I _wanted_ to hurt him. I didn't want to stop my claws from ripping at his shirt and I didn't want to stop as I pushed him around. I _enjoyed_ his cries of pain and wanted to hear more so I pulled back my shoves, made them less forceful so I could inflict more pain on him without killing him. Fortunately, he got a punch in and that slightly jolted me back in control.

"I told him to leave before I tore his throat out with my teeth. He got the message which was the only reason he is still breathing. Because after that car's engine was out of my hearing range I let go again. All I wanted to do was hunt and maim and finally…devour. When I woke up that Saturday morning I was a good fifty miles east of here, naked, and covered in blood and remains from a stag."

Stiles unintentionally shivered which Derek caught. It reminded the Sherriff's son of Jackson's appearance which was so jaded last Monday. It was most definitely because of Derek's attack on him.

"So that's when you decided to lock yourself in the cellar…right?" Stiles added on helpfully when Derek stayed silent.

"Yes. It was too dangerous to be anywhere near humans even during the day. The bloodlust is just too strong."

"…Do you feel it when you look at me?" He couldn't stop himself from asking even though the answer was not one he was sure he would want to hear. Stiles could feel that intense gaze as if Derek was studying him. He resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably.

"At first…yes. When you barged in like a fool into my den it was the biggest mistake of your stupid little life. I have no idea how I stayed in control while you shallowly bantered with me." Derek glared; Stiles cleared his throat and looked away guiltily.

"But then…you kept coming back with your annoying one man conversations and cold fast food. I got used to your presence as bothersome as it was." He growled in affirmation of his judgment of the teen when Stiles gave him a triumphant look that spoke 'I won'.

"And yesterday, when you fell asleep like a rock in the middle of the woods, it confirmed for me that I had no desire to kill you."

Stiles smiled widely, "Because I'm special."

Derek scoffed, "Because you'd be even more vexing as a poltergeist. I don't need a vengeful ghost Stiles following me for the rest of my life."

Stiles pouted playfully and chose not to be offended, "But your eyes…they're always red."

Derek closed those eyes as if he was trying to hide them away but let his lids slide back open a moment later.

"Even if I don't have an urge to kill you…It's… that power is still begging to be released and let run unattended. I'm suppressing it."

Stiles thought about this and couldn't make sense of it.

"There has to be something else…I feel like there's something missing. I mean despite your uncle's lack of sanity, he was able to control that power. And what about your sister?"

It was quiet too long, Stiles was starting to regret bringing up Derek's sister who died cruelly by her own uncle's hands. Derek peered into the forest; Stiles thoughts sidetracked as he wondered how good the man's supernatural eyesight was.

"She adjusted gracefully. Like she was born to be an alpha. She never suffered from my weaknesses. Though it did make her insufferable at times…" Derek shared with a dim ache in his eyes, which made Stiles feel a tad bit closer to the man. He didn't waste time when asking his next question, knowing that a pause would be uncomfortable for both of them.

"And did you know any other alphas that struggled being around humans and controlling their power?" He asked quietly, surprised that the two of them had been talking back and forth for so long. Their past conversations were always filled with sarcasm and threats (on Derek's part). This was definitely something Stiles preferred rather than their old way of communicating.

"No…" Derek responded with what could only mirror shame in his voice. The teen pretended not to notice.

Stiles let his head fall back onto the wooden railing, his eyes resting on the sky with a thoughtful expression.

"So what makes you so different from the rest of the alphas? That's the million dollar question."

The teenager let his eyes slip close in a small serenity but the moment passed when a curious sensation of warmth grazed over the skin on the right side of his neck. Snapping his eyes open, Stiles turned his head around to investigate. The older man was so close that Stiles felt their cheeks brush together when he frighteningly made eye contact with the werewolf.

Those eyes looked hungry and there was something else Stiles couldn't describe. He tried to find his voice but that split second of having Derek's stubble graze his face still tickled at his skin and made his brain fuzzy.

"Never. Bare your neck to me." Derek growled out, his hot breath hitting the younger man in the face. Somehow, Stiles hadn't noticed when a large hand had wrapped around the top of the railing right beside Stiles' head. His eyes couldn't help traveling down, taking in the protruding veins in the forearm and the large sinews in that bicep. Brown eyes traveled past the dip in Derek's bare shoulder and over the strong collar bone then finally made their way back to the man's face.

Stiles was cross eyed as he noticed their noses were so close to touching…

Finally his brain rebooted and he yanked his head back to put distance between him and an intense Derek Hale only to bang the back of his skull on the wooden vertical banister behind him with a solid thumping noise.

"Ow! Man that hurt…" Stiles felt tears coming on as the waves of throbbing pain washed over him; he threw both his hands over what was sure to be a lump later where the impact occurred. Opening watery eyes, Stiles watched as mirth grew on the werewolf's face. Derek was not as close but still close and this birthed for the human an opportunity for revenge.

Without much hesitation, Stiles splayed both of his hands over Derek's broad pecks and shoved as hard as he could against them; slightly amazed at how warm and hard the muscles were under his palms. He had hoped at least for the man to lose his balance off his knees and scramble to fight gravity but no such luck. All he got from his efforts was an immovable werewolf whose mirth had grown tenfold.

"There is no way a human such as yourself could overpower me. Hunters and even Jackson I can understand, but you…never." Derek's voice was filled with arrogance, with a grin on his face that spoke volumes of how much he took pleasure in making Stiles feel inferior.

Stiles fumed, feeling a heat rise to his face in anger. He still had his hands on Derek's chest and he decided to press harder into the hot flesh trying to get the infuriating man away from him.

"Back off! God it's like trying to move a boulder." He complained and groaned as he strained in a futile effort. Stiles attempted to add on the power of his foot, which the werewolf caught by his ankle before the sole of his shoe could connect with Derek's midsection.

Shaking his now captured ankle to rid of the large hand encasing it, Stiles glared, "You're not going to let go?"

"It's like I've caught a hare." Derek didn't release his hold but gripped harder and yanked which made Stiles fall onto his back. Yelping in surprise, the younger male stared up wide eyed as the alpha werewolf crawled between his jeans clad legs; finally letting go of his ankle.

"Derek wh-what the hell?" Stiles, bewildered, tried pushing up on his elbows but a wide hand pushed him back down. There were claws almost penetrating the Killers band T-shirt he wore.

"Stay." The man above him growled out, his eyes were now glowing.

Stiles cursed continuously in his brain, his distressed heart pounding in his ears. This was bad. Derek believed he was a defenseless fuzzy rabbit rather than a human being. He was going to die if the werewolf didn't get control of himself.

"Derek, _snap_ out of it!"

...

**AN: **Oh crap! A cliffhanger! Please tell me what you think, review! Sorry for any mistakes, I'm crazy sick right now so it's easy to overlook them. :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Teen Wolf or its characters.

Summary: There is a bittersweet stillness that settles over Beacon Hills after Derek slays the Alpha and Scott now has a silent treaty with the Argents. It's a week after that stressful night and no one has seen heads or tails of Derek since. Stiles can't help but fidget when his thoughts come across the new Alpha. He knows it's dangerous but something inside is pulling Stiles towards the tragic Hale property. He blames it on reckless curiosity now that things are "boring" again.

Pairings: Derek/Stiles, Scott/Allison, Jackson/Lydia, FRIENDSHIP! Danny/Stiles

Rated:T

**AN:** Hey Sterek lovers! I know everyone was put off by my cliffhanger last week so hopefully this chapter will make up for it! :D Also…

**Black Eyed Kids**, thanks for the song suggestion. I do like listening to songs that go along with the storylines I write! Music is a great inspiration for my writing. Just like the title of this fic is from a line in Lady Gaga's Judas.

**xJubeyx** &**Froggycomics**, I shall think about the smut. But for now "T" is for "Tease" XD

Without further ado…

**The Demon I Cling To**

FOUR

"Derek, _snap_ out of it!"

If Derek heard Stiles' plea, he showed no outer signs of acquiescing. Instead, the man—more animal than man—leaned his head down and used the hand that pushed Stiles back onto the step to nudge the teen's chin to the side. This allowed his pale neck to now be fully exposed to the werewolf. Stiles immediately fought to turn his head back around but Derek's clawed fingers kept his chin firmly to the left. The teen's stomach plummeted when he felt the familiar brush of hot exhalant on his throat. Was the werewolf finally going to make good on his threats and rip his trachea out?

"Oh my god. I'm not a rabbit! Stop it!" Stiles thrashed his limbs about not making any progress in escaping. Derek's large frame made it impossible to fight him off. Stiles didn't know what to do; he was panicking. Brown eyes connected with his old Jeep for a moment and wavered over the trees and ground. There was no one to help him…

All movements ceased however when Derek plunged his nose into the crook of Stiles' bared neck and inhaled deeply. First Stiles experienced the cool air from the lack of Derek's breathing then a rush of warmth followed shortly after as the man exhaled the air back through his nostrils onto Stiles' neck. A mass of goose bumps developed all over his skin from the sensation. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut as he shuddered.

"You smell amazing…" Derek snarled out against the now goosey flesh under his lips and nose.

Feeling more nervous than anything else, Stiles rambled, "Well you know I do use Dove Men Care body wash now… I think it's a whole lot better than Axe since it only makes you smell nice. Dove makes you smell nice _and_ moisturizes your skin. I'll let you borrow it some—

Wet and warmth caressed his jugular, starting at the base of his neck and working its way up. Stiles wasn't prepared when his breath hitched and he let out a keen moan, grabbing onto the lips of each step on either side of him with his blunt fingernails digging in.

"Taste even better." The werewolf added on with a sinister chuckle.

Realization hit like a comet into the earth at how Stiles had reacted to Derek's tongue and he slapped a chastising hand over his mouth; eyes wide and frantically darting around, unseeing.

What the fuck was _that_?

"Derek, get off! Get off now, god dammit! DEREK!" Stiles tried pushing the larger man's face away from his neck, blocking that invasive tongue from his skin. The hand that was holding his chin drew back only to catch Stiles' wrists and pull them away from Derek's face with ease. Stiles looked into burning red eyes which gazed down at the teen. It was apparent that he was taking pleasure in the struggle.

This is what must have happened to Jackson…Stiles thought worriedly. Any second now Derek would be throwing him about like a chew toy and eventually things would get dire. How was he going to escape this one? So many close calls in the past, Stiles hardly remembered how he evaded death back then. This time however, it looked as if death had proclaimed checkmate.

Stiles couldn't look away as Derek's head began to descend back down, probably to rip out his throat. He felt the older man's thumbs which were oddly caressing the pulse points on his wrists. It caused Stiles' heart beat to spike in excitement. Stiles wanted to kick himself in the butt. What was _wrong_ with him?

Derek opened his mouth widely, showing off his fangs as he drew in closer and Stiles acted completely on impulse.

Closing his eyes tightly shut, Stiles screamed. He screamed _loud_. He screamed like a prepubescent girl with naturally high vocal chords. And it continued as long and as strong as that one breath allowed him to.

Much to his relief, Stiles felt Derek freeze in place, his body completely rigid. That almost soothing brush of the man's thumbs on the underside of his wrists was now absent. Stiles ran out of juice for the screech. It trailed off unattractively and he opened one eye slowly then the other followed.

Derek looked as if he'd seen the ghost of his deranged uncle. His eyes were wide and now displayed that human hue of misty green and the fangs were replaced by regular incisors. Stiles didn't feel the uncomfortable prick of claws in his skin anymore. The banshee scream had worked.

"…Der—

It was lightning fast. Derek released Stiles' wrists. Somehow he connected his feet to the wooden steps and pushed off, slamming into the railing behind him and completely obliterating the beams. The man flew back and landed on his feet a good ten meters away; his expansive chest heaving and a pained expression on his face.

Stiles was in shock, his elbows now supporting his upper body so that he was staring down the man who had just attacked him. Derek shifted his gaze to Stiles with disbelief on his face.

The two stayed like this for a moment before Stiles began to tire of the wood digging into his sensitive elbows. Sitting up with a groan, the younger man tried to shake off the unfortunate situation in a joking manner.

"Well I guess you were wrong about being familiar with my presence. Maybe every time I approach you I'll have to let you sniff my hand." He laughed forcefully, brushing off his clothes as he stood up.

Looking back at Derek, his eyes met the man's tattooed muscular shoulder blades. He knew that Derek was headed back into the forest.

Stiles didn't hesitate to put one foot in front of the other in Derek's direction.

"Wait! Don't go." He jogged up behind the taller man and reached out a hand to grab his forearm; the muscle there hardened under his fingers. Derek stopped walking but didn't turn around.

"Let go." He demanded in a growl and jerked his arm away. Stiles yanked his hand back as if burned. He figured after what just happened they shouldn't be touching anyway.

Derek took a step forward.

"Stop. Look, I know what just happened was bad but—

Derek halted once again and finally turned to glare back at Stiles. Those human orbs were gone.

"Don't come back here. If I smell you in the vicinity again I will hunt you down and I will kill you." Voice hard and his mouth in a straight line, Derek didn't look as if he were lying. The younger man paused.

Stiles felt something in him fall apart when Derek had taken the silence to mean that they were through and went on his original track back towards the forest. It was strange. Stiles had to try his damndest to breathe past the invisible weight he sensed crushing his chest. Things weren't supposed to end up like this. Derek wasn't supposed to walk off disappointed and feeling as if he was the bane of everyone's existence. Like he was a failure…

Numb and despairing as Derek reached the first line of trees, words spilled from Stiles' lips and met his ears as if he hadn't initiated them.

"I just don't want you to be lonely anymore."

Stiles couldn't even manage a blush at how lame that line was but he knew that every word was honest and heartfelt. Why else would he be here every day if he didn't genuinely care?

Derek had stopped for what felt like the umpteenth time at the edge of the forest and just stood there. Time passed by but Stiles didn't feel impatient; he waited with uneven breaths slipping in and out of his parted lips. There was indecision in Derek's stance. Stiles watched closely as the man turned his head to the side like he was about to address the human but didn't speak and then quickly turned his head back around. Just when it seemed like the werewolf had made up his mind to ignore that concerned line that still hovered through the air like a strong presence and raised a foot to walk, Derek let it fall back down and huffed in resignation. He turned his head to look at Stiles over his shoulder.

"Give me a day to collect myself. Until then, don't step foot on this property." Derek growled out at the end, knowing full well Stiles will most likely do the exact opposite.

Seeing no room for an argument—although he had plenty to disagree with—Stiles nodded eagerly.

"Okay, I promise."

Stiles heard Derek sigh out roughly before continuing on his way. The werewolf didn't glance back as he disappeared into the throng of trees.

…

For the fifth time since he got home, the Sherriff's son slapped himself viciously on the cheek which was now really red and irritated from the abuse.

"For the love of god, stop _thinking_ about it already!" He yelled uncaring of being over heard. His father was still out being a disciple of justice and nobody else lived with them so there was little chance of that happening. Stiles' brain was supposed to be focusing on physics but infuriatingly kept wandering to earlier that day when Derek had…

"ARGH!" Stiles slammed down his pencil and messed up the neatly positioned books and work sheets on his desk from over boiling agitation. There he goes again. Mental images kept flashing from that afternoon, and of course it wouldn't have been so bad if Stiles had focused on the 'I almost died part' but instead he focused on…_that_.

Maybe it just was hormones—or as Stiles would like to refer to it as—WHOREmones; his body certainly acted like one. He couldn't believe that even during a crucial time like him almost dying, he was weak enough to be _aroused_ by Derek's tongue! But Stiles figured his body only responded because of his lack of physical contact with the opposite sex. There was no way in hell Stiles Stilinski was being turned on by a werewolf named Derek Hale. He wasn't gay! Anyone would feel as he did if put in his earlier situation. Stiles could still feel it. Derek's hot breath, his unkempt stubble, the feel of the man's body encasing his smaller one…Stiles had to stop himself from letting his eyes roll to the back of his head from the reverie. And once again, he slapped the right side of his face. It now tingled unpleasantly.

This was serious. Derek had tried to kill him even after the man had said he had no urge to do so. Why was that? Had Stiles done something wrong? Maybe challenged the alpha inadvertently? The teen was really confused. But oddly enough when he thought of not visiting Derek tomorrow, Stiles wanted time to speed up so that Thursday afternoon would come quicker. Did this mean that he was okay with Derek's unpredictable behavior? He could totally handle it. All he had to do was muster up a screech like before and Derek would come back to his senses…he hoped. Whatever the consequences, Stiles didn't pay them any heed.

"_I just don't want you to be lonely anymore." _

He remembered his sappy statement that made the werewolf accept their meetings again. Stiles knew he had to stay by Derek's side even if the teen's wellbeing was at stake. And a part of him also knew that it wasn't only for Derek's sake that he'd stick around. But also for his own. Stiles didn't want to be lonely anymore as well…

Straightening out his crease ridden papers, Stiles set back to work.

The skin under his chin itched and he automatically scratched there. Just a little bit to the right and that was where Derek had…

"DAMMIT!"

A slapping noise resounded through the teenager's room.

…

Beacon Hills High on a Wednesday was just as loathsome as any other day. Only it was worse because Stiles had nothing to look forward to when the last bell would ring at the end of last period. Stiles sat at the lunch table with Scott and the gang who were mainly ignoring him, having a conversation the short haired teen could care less about. His thoughts were full of Derek and what the hell the werewolf was doing now. Was he maiming an innocent deer again?

"Hey Stiles what do you think?" Allison asked in Stiles' direction with a look of excitement on her face. Stiles had pretended to be interested in their silly talks but hadn't really absorbed any of the details so he was lost. But he tried replying anyway.

"Oh yeah, that's totally bizarre." He nodded his head in fake agreement, smiling slightly in even faker amusement. It didn't take long to notice everyone at the table looking at him like he was crazy. Obviously he had made the wrong choice in words…

"You weren't listening were you dude? We were talking about going on a road trip this summer to Long Beach." Scott explained with a grin.

"We could definitely use a tan…" Stiles mused offhandedly, looking at Jackson in an obvious form of hinting at one in particular who could use a bit of sun bathing. The pale lacrosse captain glared hatefully at Stiles in return.

"I for one am perfectly tan already." Danny announced, motioning to his naturally brown skin color with a smirk.

"And we love you just the way you are." Lydia remarked, her smile teasing as she patted the man on his lean shoulder with well manicured fingernails. Danny rolled his eyes but didn't reply.

Stiles had lost interest in the banter and centered his gaze back to his food tray. Maybe if Derek got his alpha act together by then, surely he could go to long beach with them. But remembering the man's naked torso had Stiles thinking that Derek _definitely_ didn't need a tan… He was perfect.

Eyes widening comically and feeling the blood rushing to his face, Stiles dramatically let his forehead drop on the small space of table in front of him with a solid bang. What the hell?

Stiles felt Scott shake his shoulder, "What the hell was that?"

"I don't know, Scott. I sincerely don't know." Stiles whined back honestly, still keeping his forehead on the faux wood table.

"Well are you going to live? Because it'd be hard to explain why you died all of a sudden on the lunch table…" Scott was joking.

"Tell them it was an aneurism. Those happen quite often." Lydia shared helpfully.

Stiles couldn't tell anyone what he was going through. He especially couldn't confide in his best friend who still had a grudge against the man Stiles couldn't stop thinking about. But Stiles could tell himself right then and there that he wasn't gay with confidence. He didn't go around looking at men in the locker rooms and he didn't have a crush on a guy prior to this so no—Stiles will never ever be gay. This was just a side effect of Stiles' good intentions and lack of physical contact…right?

Totally.

"I'm fine," Stiles mumbled, raising his head to give Scott a weary smile, "Just tired."

Scott looked at his friend skeptically, "Man, get some _sleep_."

Stiles grinned mischievously, "I plan on it next period."

The bell rang announcing the end of lunch.

…

Stiles couldn't stop looking at two people during the last few classes that day. His brain was on overload as the ideas came to him. Now in his last class of the day, Stiles' brown eyes laid on Danny who was diligently taking notes at the front of the class, his eyes trained on the blackboard which was filled with important information that'll undoubtedly appear on a test some time soon. At one point, Stiles' over worked cerebrum had thought of asking the openly gay man how he knew he was officially gay. But Stiles quickly shot it down. He wasn't gay so why was he stressing about it? And what if he was gay? Did he really want Danny finding it out? The guy thought Stiles was gum under his shoe and just as irritating. There was a chance Danny would tell the whole school and that's the last thing Stiles wanted. But there was no reason to even dwell on this because Stiles. Wasn't. Gay.

And at one point during last period, Stiles had settled his thoughts on Jackson who was seated on the same row with two desks between them. Derek had almost killed him too. Stiles was lucky that he didn't get it as bad as Jackson had but still…Stiles felt as if he should say something. He wanted to explain to the lacrosse player what was really going on with Derek and maybe have him understand. He could just see problems arising in the form of Jackson telling Scott—or worse—the hunters of the alpha's lack of control.

Things would surely go to hell then. Mind made up, Stiles waited anxiously for the clock to read 3:10.

Stiles didn't waste time in strolling up to the most popular guy in school who was still packing up his books.

"Hey Jackson, mind if I talk to you privately for a minute?" Stiles asked as politely as he could. But talking with an asshole always made it hard for him to be sincere.

Jackon looked up confusedly, as did the rest of their friends who had the same class together.

"No Stiles, I don't think you're attractive. That all?" Jackson deadpanned as he went back to stuffing books into his bag.

"Uh not really what I wanted to ask—no. But thanks for your honesty. I really need to talk to you. Now." Stiles added in a "no nonsense" tone, his face hard when Jackson stood up and looked him square in his eyes.

"Fine." Jackson acquiesced, he looked to his girlfriend and the rest who looked at him with questioning gazes which only made him shrug in return.

"Good, follow me." Stiles walked out of the class room briskly, avoiding Scott's eyes and heading down the hall. He had already decided that the band room will be sufficient since it was sound proof and was far away from Scott's mega ears. It was uncomfortable to be walking with Jackson, both of them felt it as an awkward air surrounded them.

"What is this about?" Jackson got tired of waiting.

"You'll know inna sec." Stiles shot back.

Jackson grumbled.

They finally got to the now abandoned and dark band practice room; Stiles shut the door securely behind them both. Jackson looked uneasy in the waning sunlight coming through the windows.

"Okay we're here. Now what do you want?" He still sounded like he was a badass though.

Sighing, Stiles knew there was no euphemism for what he was about to confess.

"I know what happened to you at the Hale property that night. Derek told me."

There was a loud crash. Jackson had knocked down a chair that had been hoisted up on top of a small desk. Neither paid it much mind.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. You went to him the night we killed the alpha and you asked Derek to change you into a werewolf. He lost control and almost killed you in return." Stiles made a brief summary which Jackson took in with a look of horror on his face. The lacrosse captain stayed very still, not denying what happened; his green blue eyes on the linoleum floor.

Stiles went on, "I'm sorry you had to go through that, I just wanted to tell you that Derek wasn't himself that night…Please don't blame him. Please don't tell Scott or any of the others."

The Sherriff's son took in the fists clenched at Jackson's sides, as he looked up unbelievingly. "That animal always had it out for me! Why should I forgive him?"

Stiles didn't know that the werewolf and Jackson had much interaction in the past but the angry man before him had implied this isn't the first time Derek had attacked him. Why would Derek do that?

"Something happened after Derek became alpha. He couldn't control himself around humans and you came at the wrong time_. I_ even got attacked by Derek yesterday. It's very hard for him to suppress his werewolf as powerful as it is and I'm trying to help him. I just wanted you to know that. You can't go telling Scott and especially the hunters because that will create chaos." Stiles said all this quietly as he kept his eyes on the fuming teen before him.

Silence filled the room as Jackson's thoughts were wheeling. Stiles was glad to see that his tense shoulders were relaxing and his knuckles were less prominent.

"Fine. If you can get him under control then maybe at a later date he can change me. I am not giving up on becoming like McCall. And I won't tell anyone as long as I get what I want in the end." Jackson added on, pointing at Stiles with a serious look.

Stiles couldn't believe how adamant Jackson was on becoming a werewolf. Surely seeing all the things Scott and Derek had to go through would be enough deterrent to make him want to stay human. But Stiles could see that Jackson wanted to become a beast of the night without a doubt.

"Okay." Stiles blindly agreed. It'd buy him time and later Derek can decide what he wants to do about his obsessive little fan.

"…Okay. Best get to work Stilinski, I'm not a patient man." Jackson walked over and patted Stiles' shoulder roughly. Stiles rolled his eyes and put distance between the two of them.

"Oh and if your wolfy friend tries to come at me in the wrong manner again, tell him I have a batch of Aconitum tea waiting to be sprayed in his eyes." Jackson added on, making his way over to the door.

"Wait! Do you want to go practice Lacrosse with me and Scott this weekend?" Stiles asked randomly.

Jackson turned around and looked at him like he grew a second nose full of spiders.

"Hell no." Jackson replied shortly and exited the room.

Not looking bothered by the curt refusal, Stiles shrugged and followed the cranky guy out.

"What was that about?" Scott asked with barely suppressed curiosity, his eyes solely on his best friend as Stiles made his way to the parking lot. Stiles was giving Scott a ride home today.

"Oh just me asking Jackson if he wanted to join us this weekend at the park. I'm sure he didn't want everyone to know that we're secretly best buds." Stiles smiled. He was adapting well to steering away from the truth without being detected.

"We are _not_ best buds, Stilinski." Jackson had come up from behind and bumped the smaller teen with gusto as he passed by.

"Way to fool them all, Jackson!" Stiles laughed at Jackson's disgusted look back at him.

…

**AN**: Stiles' confusion makes me confused . this chapter was hard to write but I got through. Reviews are appreciated. Sorry for any mistakes!


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Teen Wolf or its characters.

Summary: There is a bittersweet stillness that settles over Beacon Hills after Derek slays the Alpha and Scott now has a silent treaty with the Argents. It's a week after that stressful night and no one has seen heads or tails of Derek since. Stiles can't help but fidget when his thoughts come across the new Alpha. He knows it's dangerous but something inside is pulling Stiles towards the tragic Hale property. He blames it on reckless curiosity now that things are "boring" again.

Pairings: Derek/Stiles, Scott/Allison, Jackson/Lydia, FRIENDSHIP! Danny/Stiles

Rated:T

**AN:** Sorry for taking so long! My ADD was acting up badly and I couldn't FOCUS! But thanks to special pills and everyone's reviews and support this got done! Anyway thanks for being patient and I hope you like this new installment. Some interesting plot twists are afoot! Tee hee, I said 'afoot'…

**The Demon I Cling To**

FIVE

Chris Argent sat at his work table with a pile of guns to his left and a dismantled one before him. Earlier he had received a shipment of guns that were new models and Chris was assigned to assess their quality and maintenance. Later he'd take them out to the shooting range and test their accuracy and power as well. Maybe, he thought to himself as he peered through a sniper lens, just maybe he could modify a few so that he could make silver rounds sit nicely in some of the better products. The cover of his day job paired off quite well with his true calling and it didn't hurt that the commission Chris earned paid enough for his daughter to comfortably go off to college. He could not complain.

As the man was putting the rifle back to its functioning self again, the phone in his side pocket began to vibrate. Chris laid the half assembled weapon back down onto his wooden work table and dug his phone out; looking at the caller ID, he frowned slightly.

He didn't recognize the number, but he did recognize the area code.

Sliding his finger to accept the call, Argent raised the phone to his ear.

"Who is this?" He asked sternly. Chris might not know exactly who was on the other end of this call but the least he did know was that it was nobody with good intentions.

It was silent for too long but Chris wasn't about to hang up, he just waited with his cold eyes trained on the guns in front of him.

"Where is she?" Finally came the voice of a man Chris slightly recognized. It grated on his nerves which brought back infuriating memories of…

"Paul. Why are you calling me?" Chris didn't lighten his displeased tone and didn't feel an ounce of guilt for it.

"Tell me where Kate is. Now. I can't reach her on the phone, she hasn't called me in weeks and I can't reach her! So tell me where I can find her!" Paul said in a demanding voice. It rang through the tiny speaker, making Chris extract the phone from his ear slightly with an annoyed expression. He really hated this man's voice.

"She will not be contacting you anymore. She's dead, Paul."

Silence.

"How."

"An Alpha killed her, but it's been—

There was a strangled sound erupting from the other end which had interrupted Chris, it sounded like Paul was being choked by forceful hands. And suddenly a yell could be distinguished and also the crash of breaking items impacting solid surfaces. No doubt a beer bottle was involved if he was going by the slurred speech.

"She said it was just a routine mission—she said she could handle it without me…she said. Where did she go…California. Fuck… _where_ in California? Tell me?" There was that demanding shout again that had Chris wincing from the amplified voice.

"It is not necessary for you to come out here. Those matters have already been settled." He spoke calmly, unlike Paul who was breathing heavily and every now and then a whine or whimper could be heard through the slight wheezing. What Chris meant by "settled" was that Peter was no longer a threat and he had had his sister cremated and spilled out into the ocean and tossed the silver urn in attic so he wouldn't have to look at it any longer.

But Paul didn't seem to understand that.

"Oh fuck off, Argent. You always were too soft on those goddamn forsaken animals! You probably just stood there and let your sister get rendered by those freaks! I'll find the bastard myself and bleed him dry. I'll fuckin' cut off all his extremities and make the damn thing eat them until he apologizes around his fingers and toes for ever touching her!" There was a subtle click on the other end that indicated the call was finished.

Staring down at his now dormant cell phone, Chris Argent heaved a heavy sigh.

"Shit."

…

Stiles tried not to speed walk to his car when he finally emerged from the bowels of Beacon Hills High School.

"Where are you headed off to in such a hurry?" Scott asked before Stiles could fully escape from his friend. Stiles halted as if yanked back by a cord and swiftly turned to face his best friend with an uncertain look. No way could he lie and get away with it this time.

"Oh…you know. The usual." He went for being obscure and waved his curious werewolf best friend off before hopping into his ride. Visiting Derek was the usual for Stiles but Scott was definitely thinking of an entirely different "usual" which consisted of a never ending parade of manly hero movies and stuffing fast food down his gullet.

"See you tomorrow!" He yelled out of his window at a still staring Scott McCall who waved back less enthusiastically. Stiles pretended not to dwell on it as he drove off in a manner that made it seem like he wasn't rushing but it was warring with his heart which told him to speed the hell up already. All day, Stiles was a fidgety mess that couldn't focus on school work no matter how hard he tried and Scott had noticed. Good thing he had ADD or there'd be no excuse for shaking his leg and tapping his desk in unison at a crazy momentum all day today.

A slew of emotions bubbled in Stiles as he pulled into his favorite burger joint drive-thru. He was close to seeing Derek Hale again after that incident on Wednesday. What was he supposed to say?

"Hey, Derek! Did you kill anyone or anything while I was gone?" He verbalized a sarcastic greeting as he waited behind a car that seemed to be ordering every meal combo available on the menu. The most important matter that would have to be broached upon was how Stiles would help Derek get through his sensitivity to human stimuli. It wasn't like Stiles could go on Google and type in 'How to train your misbehaving alpha werewolf' and click 'feeling lucky'. Or maybe he could…

Despite this dilemma, Stiles wasted no time and sped through his usual route to Derek's property. He had a lot to discuss with Derek today. Not to mention his discussion with Jackson yesterday. The lacrosse captain was seriously giving him eerie looks, no doubt wanting Stiles to hurry it up on desensitizing the Alpha. He was probably going to see those inquisitive eyes pointed in his direction for the next few weeks.

Resisting the urge to groan, Stiles wondered if he only had made things more difficult by confronting Jackson like that. Those thoughts only amplified at the sight of a large SUV coming into view as he pulled up in front of the dilapidated home of Derek Hale. Leaning against the vehicle was Chris Argent, the very tenacious and intimidating werewolf hunter. Stiles heart skipped a beat with anxiety as he slowed his jeep and parked. Jackson had totally sold them out.

Stiles watched the Argent watching him and time seemed to pass in slow motion as the man pushed off his SUV and crossed the short distance over toward the teen.

"What brings you here, kid?" Argent's tone was suspicious; a sharp eyebrow was raised in curiosity.

Stiles tried to swallow his saliva in a manner that didn't come off as him gulping from nerves. This was bad.

"Well you know, I-I could ask you the same question." Stiles fired back with only a small tremor in his voice. This man was truly intense; he didn't have to be a werewolf to intimidate anyone much less Stiles.

A grin formed on the older man's face, followed by an amused huffing noise.

"The last time we encountered each other was on a very hostile basis, wasn't it? I wronged you. But surely you must know it was all in pursuit of insuring everyone who is human their safety from monsters like Peter Hale."

"Yeah but he wouldn't have been that way if your sister hadn't—" Stiles stopped himself from continuing and looked down ashamedly. He didn't mean to blame, didn't want to go off on a tangent of 'ifs, ands, and buts' like it mattered now.

"I'm sorry." Stiles apologized in a mutter, looking up at a new expression Stiles hadn't witnessed from the man before. The pain in those piercing eyes made the Sherriff's son feel even worse. It really never crossed his mind how Kate's betrayal and death had effected the head of the Argent family. Now he knew that it had stung deeply. Stiles felt like apologizing again.

Raising a hand and waving it in a way to clarify the tension, Argent nodded. "You're right. Mistakes were made on both sides and I understand that. I'm not here to hassle anyone for the time being. I just wanted to talk to Hale but there was no answer so I decided to wait. Do you know where he is?"

This surprised Stiles. He surely thought the man would be angry with him but Chris Argent looked as if Stiles hadn't just made an offense against his deceased sister. He shook it off and tried to answer the question as best as he could without raising any suspicion.

"He's gone for the time being. I just like to come here to do my homework. It's peaceful." Stiles lied smoothly and got out of the car, making sure to haul his backpack out as well. Chris Argent gave Stiles a disbelieving look then looked at the house of horrors as if trying to connect really foreign dots.

"Peaceful, right. Do you know where he went? How I can contact him?" Argent turned and followed Stiles up to the porch where the teen took a seat on the steps and set his backpack down.

"No, I have no idea where he is but I'm sure he wouldn't want you contacting him anyway since you were nothing better than a big bully to him. What do you want with him?" Stiles asked, his words sounding strong but his voice totally wimping out. His mind kept telling him that Argent definitely knew about Derek's problem now and that freaked him out. Another Alpha vs. Hunter smackdown was bound to commence, he just knew it! Damn Jackson and his traitorous ways.

Argent rested his weight on his hand on the remaining railing of the steps and pinned Stiles with a look that adults were notorious for giving uncooperative adolescents.

"It's imperative that I speak with him, son. There is something coming that he has to be aware of."

Stiles frowned. Wait. So this _wasn't_ about Hunters getting pitchforks and torches to bring down the big bad but simply misunderstood alpha? Stiles slightly relaxed.

"What's coming? Just tell me and I'll make sure he gets the message." Argent took in the Sherriff's son with uncertainty written plain as day on his face but Stiles fixed him with a look of determination.

Sighing in acceptance, Chris Argent stood straight once more, further studying the charred remains as he spoke.

"Hunters are coming to kill Derek Hale." The older man said bluntly with a frown as sun light glinted through the trees to obscure his scrutiny of the house.

Stiles' eyes were wide as he stood up and mechanically walked down the steps to be on level ground with the hunter.

"What? How can that be? Derek has done nothing wrong!" He couldn't understand why they were after him if the oldest of all hunter families himself was standing there not wanting to pursue Derek.

"There was a misunderstanding, last night. Paul McFertin from a family of newly initiated hunters was associated to Kate. He called me today from a payphone in Michigan and I had to inform him of Kate's death. Needless to say he took it badly and didn't let me get a word in that the werewolf responsible is now dead. Not that it would matter to him seeing that he is just as extreme as my sister was in dealing with werewolf affairs. He will definitely bring other extremists with him and will be heavily armed. Any werewolf—peaceful or not—will be in danger. I of course will aid in any way possible to stop them."

Stiles absorbed all of this with a shocked look. There were more psychotic hunters out there besides Kate Argent? One was bad enough. And it certainly wasn't the time for all of this to be taking place. Derek was still unstable.

"How will you stop them?" Stiles asked, his eyes were trained on the man beside him. Chris Argent looked grim as he shifted his weight and rubbed his bristly chin roughly.

"If they do not adhere to reason, I will have no choice but to allow Derek and myself to _make_ them disappear. They swore an oath that will be considered void if they go after an innocent werewolf."

Silence followed after and the younger of the two could feel the gravity of the situation. This was indeed bad.

"I'm glad to know that there is still a hunter around that isn't unjust. Thank you." Stiles said gratefully, his opinions of the man slowly changing from resentful to a form of respect. Stiles noticed the look he was receiving from the Argent and it almost had him wishing he could retract his last words.

"You are thanking me for ensuring his wellbeing and also coming onto his property freely like this…you must be very close with Hale these days." The older man stated as if discovering something interesting and now was scrutinizing Stiles the way he was scrutinizing the house earlier. Stiles fought the embarrassment he felt and scratched the back of his neck just to have something to do.

"It- It's mainly because of Scott that I'm thankful. He's in danger too." Stiles lied again. He was doing a lot of that lately. Hopefully he can keep up with them all.

"Of course. Surely you'll warn him as well?" Argent urged as he backed away in a sign of departure to his SUV. Stiles nodded his reassurance.

Just as Chris Argent opened the driver's side door, Stiles called out. Argent halted and looked back at Stiles expectantly.

Stiles fumbled with his words as he tried to find the confidence to share his request with the man.

"I…was wondering if it would be possible, if maybe, if somehow you could just…not tell Scott I come here sometimes? He doesn't know."

There was a definite inquiry in those ungodly blue eyes that had Stiles squirming on the inside. But after a brief moment passed of Argent digesting this, the hunter simply gave a curt nod and slipped into the vehicle, shutting the door behind him.

Stiles watched the man drive off and wanted to collapse from the immediate seeping of tension leaving his body. That was incredibly uncomfortable and nerve wracking.

"Never again." Stiles breathed out as he sat down on the last step, running a clammy hand over his face with shoulders hunched over. He had truly thought the Argent was coming after Derek himself and that made Stiles feel pain and worry that he didn't know even existed for this particular werewolf. Was he already growing attached? As desperate as he was for a friend, it was possible.

Stiles was so lost in his thoughts that when his brain registered bare dirty feet in his line of vision, there was little that he could do other than crane his neck to see a half naked Derek looking down on him. Stiles fought off the urge to jump at what felt like a sudden appearance of the werewolf before him. The teen give a quaking smile that bordered on being forced.

"So you _are_ here. That means I don't have to repeat everything that was said just now, right?" Stiles asked so his thoughts didn't immediately run to what occurred at their last meeting. God knows Stiles had replayed the events too many times.

The stealthy man before him nodded, "I heard it all. This is a problem."

Stiles picked at the frayed strands on his pants, his mind searching for solutions.

"What will you do now? Will you…leave?" The thought made his heart seize, he didn't even fully realize the look he was giving Derek at that exact moment. Derek frowned down at the younger man and shook his head as he began talking.

"That isn't possible with my condition. If I were to leave, I'd kill in the process of relocating and then there would be hunters after me anyway. Since this is private property it reassures me no human interaction. Except you of course." The werewolf glared.

"Well that makes sense." Stiles dodged, turning his head to the side so he couldn't see that frustrated look on the other man's face. He was the only exception indeed. Was it wrong that he felt a tingling sensation at the thought? Maybe, but Stiles didn't linger on the embarrassment of that revelation. Instead a chilling fact pushed those lively thoughts right out of his mind.

"You might have to kill, you know. What are you going to do? You could lose control in a magnificent way and kill the wrong people."

This made Derek growl and grit his teeth, "That is also a very big problem."

Stiles took in the way Derek shifted his stance and covered his red irises with a grimy large hand as if soothing a headache. He figured that the werewolf didn't like his shortcomings being broadcast. But they didn't have time to dance around the subject. They were being forced to bring up his volatile nature earlier and figure out how to suppress it. Not to mention there was still the discussion with Jackson that took place yesterday…

Cringing, Stiles heaved a heavy sigh, "I have something to share with you and you most likely won't like what it is."

Derek dropped the hand on his forehead and gave Stiles an accusing glance.

"What did you do?" He demanded without a second thought. Stiles knew that this mistrust was well earned; he almost twiddled his pointer fingers in guilt. Standing up, the teen leaned his body on the railing so that he stood beside the werewolf who carefully followed him with his predatory gaze. It was maddening in a way Stiles couldn't decipher.

"I talked to Jackson yesterday and convinced him not to tell anyone about the attack. He agreed as long as you…turn him after I help you regain control of your werewolf side."

The brief pause in dialogue was utilized so that Derek could close his eyes in a way that showed his disapproval as well as a heavy exhale of breath that sounded of "dammit Stiles". Those eyes opened again speaking of a fiery disposition; Derek's muscles were all tensed in his bare arms and chest.

"I am _not_ turning that worthless human so that he can become an even more worthless werewolf." Derek decreed harshly, there was not an ounce of irresolution in his words. This definitely meant that there was no chance of Jackson being turned by Derek Hale's hand. Stiles bounced his head side to side in a manner that said 'duh'.

"I kind of knew that already, but his believing so buys us time that we can use to have you parading around humans without the bloodlust clouding your brain. I just had to make sure Jackson didn't say anything to Scott, or worse…the Argents." Stiles explained his motives clearly, his hands flying around in his passion of defending himself.

Derek scoffed and sized up Stiles, "How are _you_ going to help me, Stiles? No one can help me. If I want to kill, I'll kill."

"But you don't want to kill _me._ That's a start isn't it? I'm human and I'm here. Get fully used to me and maybe you can make your way up to being in the company of others again. Oh, don't give me that look. You have to _try_." Stiles was determined. He needed this to work. He needed Derek to agree to fight for his control again.

"You can't just," Stiles threw his hands in the air, "give up. I won't let you." He smirked.

Derek was astonished behind those monstrous features and Stiles noticed that astonishment. This made him feel a bit self-conscious which had him bursting on the inside.

"I know! I know it's weird that I'm here and stalking you and I know that I'm—

"Okay. Let's do it." Derek cut off the mortified tirade spilling from Stiles and gave one nod in affirmation when Stiles looked at Derek disbelievingly as if he hadn't heard the older man properly.

A triumphant smile slowly bloomed and all embarrassment was forgotten for that moment.

"Really? That's great! I brought us some food, but its cold by now, but I don't mind. I'm sure you don't mind either given that you are like a stray dog right now." Stiles rambled as he went back to the car and grabbed the drinks and paper bag full of fries and burgers. Stiles handed off one of the Cola's to Derek who took the drink awkwardly and quietly followed Stiles up to the porch.

"Mind sitting here? It's really nice out today." Stiles sat on the worn wooden planks before receiving an answer. Derek had no choice but to do the same only opposite of the younger man. Stiles rummaged in the bag for napkins and laid out his order on them before handing off the bag to Derek.

Biting off a large unsophisticated mouthful of meat, cheese and condiments, Stiles munched and watched Derek as he pulled out a burger wrapped in wax paper. The man stared at the food as if there was a dancing hobbit in its place.

"You have got to stop bringing me this stuff." Derek held up the package and dropped it back onto the bag.

Swallowing, Stiles raised an eyebrow, "Why? What else are you eating? Not like you can go grocery shopping any time you want."

Derek stayed silent but gave the teen a look that held the answer to his question. It didn't take long for Stiles to figure it out. Horrified and disgusted, Stiles put down his own burger.

"That's...there _is_ no words. Derek, eat the burger." Stiles ordered in a no nonsense tone, this was worse than he had originally thought. Derek Hale was out there every night, feeding on poor innocent little creatures. He had his work cut out for him.

Derek looked down at the abused food then back at Stiles who nudged his head forward to show he was serious.

"Eat the burger." He enforced again.

Growling in displeasure at being told what to do, Derek snatched it up, ripped apart the wax paper and took a vicious bite as if he was tearing out the jugular of a living cow instead of biting into cooked beef. Derek didn't take his hardened gaze off of Stiles the entire time as he chewed jerkily. The man wasn't enjoying this at all.

Stiles picked up his food again and bit into it with less ferocity, a small pleased smile on his face that he desperately tried to hide. Who knew he could order a terrifying alpha around? He wanted to pat himself on the back for being so cool.

They continued to eat in silence and Stiles only talked again when Derek had finished the first burger and told him to eat the second one as well. Derek surprisingly did as told without a refusal to do so.

After nonstop eating, Stiles nursed his Cola and motioned for Derek to do the same. Derek's upper lip twitched in aversion but picked up the condensation covered cup and removed the lid. He sniffed at the dark liquid then took a sip. The strong carbonated drink made Derek pull a face that almost had Stiles spitting sticky beverage everywhere with laughter. The man looked as if he had just sucked on a lemon.

"It couldn't have been that long since you last had soda." Stiles stifled chuckles as best he could when Derek glared his usual glare at the teen.

"I never liked soda. Especially Coke." Derek put the cup down roughly and accidentally punctured the side of the paper cup with a claw; the brown liquid seeped out slowly. They both watched it spill onto the charred wood.

"Oh." Stiles muttered. He knew his knowledge of Derek was scant but something as simple as beverage preference made him realize just how vast it might be. And for Derek, concerning him, shared the same problem. How he supposed to help the guy if neither knew each other well enough to even be called friends?

Stiles bit his lip at the leap he was taking and jumped.

"Can I tell you something that not even Scott knows?" Stiles pinched the straw leading to his drink with his fingers and looked uncertainly up at Derek who was undeniably curious. The werewolf nodded and Stiles knew that this would stay solely between them. AKA, their chance at bonding.

Stiles looked back down at the straw and talked over the crows yapping in the trees high above them.

"Your uncle gave me the option of being turned that night as reward for finding you trapped in the cellar. He had my arm out, ready to bite and I told him I didn't want it." Stiles' heart beat was irregular.

"You lied…why?" Derek asked in a voice that was sure of his conclusion, Stiles didn't look up as he continued to bend his straw and he didn't deny that he had lied in that parking garage.

"I don't know. Part of me figured I'd be no better than Jackson if I was turned that night and I should do the right thing and stay human out of some moral ambiguity and another part was screaming for me to let him turn me. Guess my pride won out."

"Do you regret it?"

"In some ways," Stiles' mind went to his mediocrity in Lacrosse, his failure to impress the girl of his dreams, and the loneliness he felt from pretty much losing his best friend to werewolf problems and love,

"Yes I do. But in others," Stiles thought of the secrets he'd have to keep from his father, further pushing the man away for his safety, his lack of control he'd have to face every full moon, and most importantly…Derek. Stiles looked up, "No, I don't."

…

**AN:** Wow. I feel like I'm writing a jacked up version of Beauty and the Beast without the dancing furniture and can you imagine Stiles in Belle's ball gown? XD This chapter was mainly for plot and I promise you, more Derek/Stiles hotness in the next chapter. I hope you enjoyed and please excuse whatever mistakes I missed. Review and tell me what you think! I'm _dying_ to know.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or its characters.

Summary: There is a bittersweet stillness that settles over Beacon Hills after Derek slays the Alpha and Scott now has a silent treaty with the Argents. It's a week after that stressful night and no one has seen heads or tails of Derek since. Stiles can't help but fidget when his thoughts come across the new Alpha. He knows it's dangerous but something inside is pulling Stiles towards the tragic Hale property. He blames it on reckless curiosity now that things are "boring" again.

Pairings: Derek/Stiles, Scott/Allison, Jackson/Lydia, FRIENDSHIP! Danny/Stiles

Rated:T

**AN:** This chapter is longer than all the others! SURPRISE! My Christmas gift to all of you who supported my story thus. It's been a hard road and had a few scares that I deleted it by accident but it has faced the odds of total annihilation and WON! Here it is. Please enjoy and make sure to review! Oh how I enjoy reviews…

The Demon I Cling To

SIX

It was almost comical to Stiles the way Scott shot concerned glances in his direction for most of the first cluster of classes. Stiles could decipher that Scott was itching to tell the Sherriff's son something he already was well informed of. The only reason his amusement was immediately quelled was the fact that Scott had waited an entire week to try and discuss it with him. After Stiles had learned of the impending danger, he devised a simple plan that included Derek phoning Scott instead of himself. It would be a rather hazardous situation if Scott found out the things Stiles had been up to lately. Derek agreed to this and used his battered phone which has seen better days while Stiles listened closely to the man's side of the conversation. Stiles took in the small glint of guilt that came across his face as he told Scott who was calling and watched how stiffly he addressed the future unfortunate events.

Was Derek showing signs of regret for disposing of his uncle and becoming alpha? Most likely. Surely he couldn't have known it would lead to all this solitude and fear of mauling innocent people. And there was still no guarantee that Scott would have reverted back to his old unimpressive self. And worst of all, his best friend would know what it would feel like to take a life. Could Scott handle it? Probably not. Just look at how Derek suffered with every waking moment. Derek—Stiles now fully believes—had made the right decision. But he didn't like that Derek still focused so much on what has passed. If they wanted to make progress on Derek's animalistic behavior, he had to accept what happened that night to move forward. But still Stiles had watched on in silence that day as a fresh round of torture spread upon Derek's face and vanished in a coldness that followed. It was like watching waves rush onto a beach and receding. The man's emotions were all in disarray. In a constant shifting pattern of anger, fear, malice, and depression. It had to be tiring because Stiles was fatigue just looking at him. Had he ever seen Derek truly smile? Smiles that came so easily to Stiles were nonexistent for the werewolf. After that stressful phone encounter—which had ended abruptly without the common courtesy of "goodbye" attached—silence had enveloped the two of them.

Derek definitely wouldn't be the first one to start talking as if it would pain him to even attempt doing so and Stiles wasn't sure what was next. It was easier said than done trying to break a werewolf's bad habits. One thing about the young man however, Stiles was a glass half full kind of fellow.

"Everything will work out, I know it. We can do this." He gave Derek's unsure face a beaming smile of his own. Maybe if he smiled largely enough around the sour man it will have a positive effect and Stiles will witness Derek's first carefree expression. But all he got in return was a blank stare and, "And if we can't, everything goes to hell."

Well it will take some time.

"Stiles." Stiles looked up from his reverie to his best friend's tanned face then swiveled his head to take in the empty class room. Somehow the bell had signaled, ending biology and starting lunch and Stiles was the only student in the history of students to miss it. He tried his best to play it off and gave Scott a questioning look seeming as though Scott had broken in on Stiles being busy. Scott returned it with an uncomfortable shifting of his feet which clued in Stiles that the fated conversation was on the precipice of being born. It's about time.

"We need to talk about something important. I kept putting it off wondering if I should even tell you this or not but you should know."

Stiles didn't bother moving when Scott took the seat in front of him.

"What's wrong, man? Are you okay?" Stiles feigned ignorance well, his concern was real however.

The teen werewolf didn't waste time in telling Stiles what he already knew. Those hunters from Michigan were coming for Derek Hale and any werewolf along the way was fair game.

"Well.." Stiles started off, letting out an exasperated sigh, "our lives are no longer boring."

He aimed at being mildly humorous which he always relied on when receiving bad news. Scott shook his head in his own sign of exasperation at Stiles' awful response to the dire situation.

"I just wanted to tell you so that you can steer clear of the threat. I don't want you to get hurt."

Stiles slapped a hand to his chest in a mocking manner as if he was truly moved by Scott's thoughtfulness. He dropped the act and gave Scott a serious gander.

"It's not me you need to worry about. Besides if it weren't for me, you'd be just as much of the loser I am now." He said this grinning with no real bitterness behind it. Scott picked it up and replied,

"I know how it went down that night, but it still doesn't change the fact that you're still human and way easier to kill than I am."

"Well thanks for pointing out my flaws." Stiles rolled his eyes. "Look, even if you are a _tad_ bit more invincible and harder to kill doesn't mean you have to go around flaunting it. You should stay low and let Derek and Argent handle it like you said they would." Stiles sounded nonchalant as he said this but on the inside he knew letting Derek kill was a very big deal; one that Scott had no suspicion of.

Scott nodded, "I'm planning on doing that anyway. Despite _being_ this way I want nothing more than to pretend I am not this monster."

Scott scowled down, probably cursing Derek Hale left and right in his mind but Stiles didn't mention it.

"So it's settled: you'll pretend to be a real boy until all this blows over." The scowl was now pointed in his direction and Stiles tried to give Scott a sympathetic look. Scott was silent for a few moments, tapping his blunt nails on Stiles' desk.

"I feel like no matter what I do, somehow I'll always be drawn into this…weirdness. I can no longer change what I am. This is my world now Stiles, it doesn't have to be yours too." Sounded like Scott had thrown Stiles a choice in there at the end and that choice planted a void which grew as thoughts of not having his best friend and not having Derek became a possibility. He could distance himself off from all of them and be…alone. That wasn't an option even if his reasoning was somewhat self-centered.

"If you're a part of it then so am I. What kind of best friend would I be if I kicked you to the curve over the fact that you're a hairy mystical creature? Not a good one." Stiles didn't want to be in a world where Scott didn't come over to his house and watch movies and play video games and sneak nudey mags with him. He didn't want to be in a world where Derek's dark demeanor and strong resilience to his awful circumstances didn't exist either. And there was also Derek's uncanny way of making Stiles _care_ about him. It was like he had discovered something wonderful and couldn't adjust back to normalcy minus the new addition. Stiles' heart fluttered from how deep the emotions ran. He wasn't accustomed to any of it.

Stiles watched Scott's head tilt in question. It was the muscle fluttering heard around the world, apparently.

"…You seem very preoccupied lately…Is something going on that you haven't told me about?"

There's that inescapable inquiry again. Stiles tried not to look like he was caught in the headlights. He'll just have to be honest.

"You know, I'd rather not talk about it…" He looked down at his hands and just as rapidly back up at Scott who now sported a surprised look on his face.

The two always shared their secrets, never holding back with one another since they both had seen each other at their worst. Scott with his father's abandonment and departure from his life and Stiles when his mother died in the hospital from a terminal illness. Since then, they only really had their bond to rely on to keep them upbeat and strong.

So when Stiles refused to talk to Scott about his "woes" things went drastically still as both boys processed this.

"I see." Scott stated firstly in a monotone voice, standing up. "Allison must be looking for me. Stay out of trouble if you can."

It was a joke but also it was a warning since Stiles was going through something that he couldn't even mention to the one person on earth he was supposed to tell everything to. Stiles couldn't work up the courage to apologize aloud so he gave Scott's retreating back a sorrowful stare as the teen slipped through the classroom door. Slumping in the vacant class, Stiles felt terrible. Scott was now undeniably redeemed for his weeklong procrastination while Stiles was now undeniably in the wrong.

He felt and heard the familiar heavy buzzing of his cellular on vibrate and fished it out his deep pocket.

**Bring your laptop. Got bills to pay.**

Stiles snorted at the phone screen. The fierce Derek Hale and bills…quite hilarious.

Every day, transactions between Derek and himself got less complicated and awkward. Stiles hadn't missed one day last week of dropping by with unhealthy food and somewhere along the way they began to fix up things around the property. Stiles looked on aghast on Tuesday evening when Derek had shown him the lumber and supplies he had purchased first thing after returning to Beacon Hills. But of course the rebuilding had been neglected due to raging Uncle Peter and a psychotic huntress. Stiles was glad that even after getting a grip on his control that Derek was willing to reside in Beacon Hills. So the two did little by little every day, Stiles taking measurements and Derek cutting and hauling lumber to replace the damaged floor boards. Sometimes they talked about each other's lives before they were forced to be acquaintances; let's just say Derek knew more about the teen than Stiles knew about the werewolf. But when Derek did open up Stiles would get excited and paid close attention as if every detail were the sun and he had been incarcerated in a dungeon too long. Stiles now knew that Derek's strong aversion to coke came from not liking surgery drinks, he knew that Derek preferred winter best because summer was almost impossible for his unnaturally raised body temperature, he also now knew that Derek liked to run. More like parkour running where you flip and jump from high places while trying not to break your neck. Something about it making the werewolf feel free and strong as he pulled off those stunts. Stiles started to realize that Derek wasn't too different from him in age, though the man acted like a middle aged well-seasoned army veteran. Derek had his moments where he let himself go. No inhibitions, no responsibilities or revenge plot standing in his way and just enjoyed being in his skin (literally because he was always half naked). He also seemed to like construction. There were times when Stiles had witnessed the peaceful and untroubled face of a hard at work werewolf driving in the new screws on the railings inside the house.

And midway through the week, Stiles at first didn't even fully notice that at some point, Derek's eyes were human and untainted by rage that followed the deep red hue that would signature an alpha werewolf. Stiles gasped loudly, drawing Derek's attention who gave the teen a questioning stare. Derek himself hadn't even noticed the positive change.

Stiles fixed his astonished face to look neutral and waved it off, not wanting to mention this new development and risk reverting the man to his defenses again, (but damn was it really hard not to stare into those human orbs) and claimed he just remembered something really important instead. Not fully convinced but not one to press further, Derek went back to gluing on the wallpaper Stiles picked out from Home Depot. Since then, Derek's eyes remained pastel green and Stiles always found himself staring into them; not used to their color as of yet. Progress was being made; there was no doubt about that. Derek stopped growling—unless Stiles would get on his nerves with talking too much too fast—and ate the fully cooked food that Stiles would bring over. He started to take notice of his personal hygiene and managed his stubble; adorning decent clothing again. Most of all, there were no incidents of being attacked which Stiles was grateful for.

But there were still complications, at least there were on the teen's side of the arrangement. There would be occasions where Derek had stepped in close proximity of Stiles and the Sherriff's son could feel his body freeze up and his pulse picking up momentum. Derek with his exceptional hearing would notice right away Stiles' discomfort and waste no time in retreating, making sure to keep ample space between the two for the next few hours until Stiles left. This caused the younger man to almost smack himself on the forehead for acting like some petrified kid who feared an excitable but friendly large dog. Derek wouldn't willingly harm him and he was so much better around Stiles than five days ago. He knew he had to fix how he reacted to Derek or the man would do what he is best at and self-condemn for past transgressions that were already forgiven. Every wrong that Derek committed would eat away at the man to the point Stiles feared he'd regress back to cellar dweller once again. So Stiles forced his stupid heart to stay calm when situations required both of them to be close. He had to get used to Derek as much as Derek had to get used to him.

Over all, their plan was going smoother than Stiles had previously thought and there were still no signs of the evil hunters. Could Stiles make this actually work? …How was he supposed to know unless he tested Derek somehow?

Stiles continued forcing his mind to think of ways to challenge Derek's inner monster during the last few school hours, only paying attention when he knew his name would be called to read a passage or answer a question.

On his way to the Hale property with fresh hot steak filled burritos and bottled water, it hit him. It was risky but how else could he ensure Derek's control without putting other's in harm's way? Beginning to fidget, Stiles' nerves were catching up with his brain.

"Courage man, courage!" Stiles told himself, breathing in and out with deeps breaths, clenching the steering wheel tight. Surely he'll have a gray head of hair after this little experiment is over; that is to say as long as he makes it out alive first.

When he arrived, Stiles located Derek right away with his eyes before getting out of the car. The werewolf was rebuilding a window frame at the right side of the house, hammer in hand and long dark nails jutting out of his parted lips. His shirt was nowhere to be found of course but Stiles was pleased to see the jeans he wore were absent of tears. It was still a challenge to get the man to wear his shoes but Stiles didn't make a big deal of it, since this was one other thing he learned about the man. He liked being barefoot and enclosed shoes were the enemy.

Derek only stopped hammering when Stiles stopped a few meters away from him, holding up a plain paper bag.

The werewolf did a very wolfy gesture and tilted his nose up, "Burritos again?"

Stiles shrugged and dropped the food off on the patio where they usually ate their meals, "Better than deer hide."

Derek was coming up towards Stiles when the teen made that comment and winced as the man knocked a grimy palm against that buzzed haircut of his. Stiles never failed to mention Derek's hunting and devouring of raw animal flesh as a way of teasing him and always paid the price in some fashion. Stiles rubbed the spot but didn't feel any pain and couldn't help the smile birthing on his lips. Derek had showed control again which only strengthened his resolve to execute his test.

Stiles got his computer bag from out the car and brought it over to Derek who already tore open the food bag and started in on his extra-large burrito.

"Brought the laptop. When are you going to restore power to this place? Good thing the plumbing is still functional, because I will have no part in pissing in the woods." Stiles made small talk as he ate, a mouthful of meat and cheese impacting his pronunciation heavily. Derek was accustomed to this way of speaking from Stiles and answered as if Stiles had articulated every word.

"Not until I'm sure I won't kill the electrician." Derek responded, not looking up as he positioned the laptop beside him on the wooden planks.

Stiles kept looking at Derek the entire time they ate, the man's green eyes moving back and forth as he read the computer screen diligently. It was such an accomplishment that Derek could appear normal in front of Stiles but what made Stiles savor it all the more was that only he could appreciate this feat. Would Derek go back to snarling and sharp claws and red irises in someone else's presence? Stiles guessed that Jackson could be the test dummy when it was time to find out. The guy was still pestering him about Derek's "wellbeing". Mentioning it every time he knew Scott was preoccupied and giving Stiles impatient looks. Maybe Derek hadn't petrified the lacrosse captain enough…

Stiles crumpled up the empty food wrappers and focused his brown eyes back on the man before him. Should he mention it now? The method was all worked out but they just ate…

Derek huffed in what sounded like agitation as he closed the computer and focused his human glare on Stiles.

"You're staring at me. Why?"

"I don't know if you even keep track of the days anymore but starting today it has been an entire week and I think you're ready to be challenged."

Derek's facial expression was one of opposition but Stiles didn't allow him a chance to share that negative opinion as of yet.

"You're getting better—around me at least. You're staying busy with house repairs and getting used to having a human being around; I mean your eyes haven't changed again when I told you about them being normal that day. And you're actually taking care of yourself without me having to say a word. And just now you smacked me in the back of my head without sending me flying into the woods. It's time to push the boundaries." Even though the teen was sure about doing this, his conviction was a tad bit subdued by the man studying him the entire time.

"So…what do you think?" Stiles asked, doing his best not to just drop the conversation all together as Derek stayed silent , collecting his thoughts with a gentle furrowing of thick eyebrows.

"I think…it's a terrible idea."

Stiles' hopefulness plummeted, he already knew convincing Derek would be a chore but he hated when the man disagreed with him right off the bat.

"Now, you don't even know what I have in mind. It's not like I'm going to drop you off at the mall during Christmas shopping weekend and hope for the best. I won't let you hurt anyone. This experiment will involve just you and me."

Stiles could clearly see that Derek wasn't close to letting this commence whatsoever but didn't try to convince him any further and just stayed quiet with a pleading look on his face. Derek still wasn't moved but didn't shoot him down as quickly this time.

"What did you have in mind?"

"I test your endurance to resist prey. Of course I'll be the prey."

Derek shook his head, "Why not use a deer?"

"Where the hell am I supposed to find a deer? The Deer Depot? And no, that won't work. You have no emotional attachment to an animal which will tempt you to kill it. It has to be me."

"Are you saying I have an emotional attachment to you?" Derek looked amused, eyes glinting in a manner that stated he was holding back laughter.

Stiles blushed heavily, turning his head away but felt like it wasn't enough and stood up hastily, shifting his feet until he had his back to the grinning werewolf. This wasn't supposed to be so embarrassing.

"Tha-that's not what I meant! What I meant was—that—animals and humans are—gah! God, you know what I mean!" Stiles stumped his foot making the floorboards shake and turned around again to stare the man down in his own need to appear unshaken. It didn't help that he was still warm in the cheeks.

Derek was now standing—probably getting up as Stiles was stammering over his words—and all mirth was gone from his features as he closed the distance between the two of them. Stiles made sure his feet didn't start moving backwards and stood his ground.

"I know what you meant. And you're right. Those hunters are going to be here any day now and I still am not sure if I will be able to control myself when it matters most. I just don't like you getting hurt in the process of helping me. I'm not confident enough that I will endure this well." Derek didn't break eye contact and Stiles gulped heavily as he was frozen in that moment, unable to look away.

Laughing nervously, Stiles hit the man on his hard round shoulder with a closed fist. "That's the second time today a werewolf has told me they don't want me to get hurt. I should win a prize or something."

Derek's brows dipped in confusion but let up once he figured out what Stiles had meant, "He finally 'told' you."

Throughout the week Stiles had complained to Derek about Scott not informing him right away about the hunters and Derek had to listen, rolling his eyes and trying to remind Stiles that it didn't matter since he already knew what was going on. Stiles insisted that that wasn't the point. "It's about trust." He would say frustratingly, on the verge of pouting.

"Yeah, but he was trying to keep me protected that's why he waited so long. I can understand that." Stiles shrugged.

Derek nodded, "I'd rather you not be involved when the hunters get into town. They will have no reservations in their cruelty if you ally yourself to a monster like me."

The teen smiled wide, "If you were a monster you wouldn't care what happens to me."

When Derek didn't respond as if disagreeing in his mind, Stiles continued on.

"I can take care of myself; didn't I do well the last time we had to go through all this?"

"That was mostly luck. This time, you may not be so fortunate." Derek sounded grave, probably imagining Stiles dead at the hands of either the werewolf or the hunters.

Stiles wanted to yell and so he did.

"Oh my god, dude. You're so pessimistic! If you kill me today, you can think whatever you want, but until then," Stiles acted on his next thought which was irrational and slapped Derek in the face as hard as he would dare to on an unbreakable alpha werewolf, "focus!"

Derek looked stunned, head thrown to the left as the slap resounded in the wide porch area; Stiles repeated the blow but with his left hand because his right stung like he had hit solid concrete. Derek didn't stop his hand before it impacted and another similar smacking sound erupted.

"Stiles, what are you _doing_?" Derek asked turning his face to look at Stiles with a truly dumbfounded expression. Stiles found his courage and decided to go for a punch in the man's bare abdomen, putting force behind it.

Derek stumbled back from the force as Stiles hissed from the ache in his knuckles, looking them over. Derek looked agitated now as he growled out,

"Stop it, Stiles."

Stiles didn't listen, instead he decided to use his feet this time and kicked the man high in the abdomen like he was Hwoarang on Tekken 6. Derek was pushed back into the siding, cracking it in various places with the force of his fall. Stiles winced when he looked at the damage to the house (like they really needed any more repairs to add to the list).

Derek regained his posture and lo and behold, those eyes of his were crimson. His breathing was now uneven and just as uncontrolled as his inner beast. Stiles had to remind himself of why he was doing this to keep from jumping in his car and hugging a teddy bear.

"You're pushing it, don't—

Stiles this time punched him in the face. He thought he had felt something shift unnaturally in his knuckle region but didn't have time to dwell on it when Derek growled louder in agitation. The blows were not much harder than an adolescent attacking a WWE wrestler but it sure was irritating the large man, the werewolf inside wanted to come out and return those licks tenfold. Stiles just hoped Derek was strong enough to resist.

"Don't. Do that again." The man's voice reminded Stiles of when he first found Derek all hidden away in the dark of the cellar, on the verge of letting the beast rip out and tear an unsuspecting victim apart. Muscles all bulging and fists clinched in a manner that showed restraint on the brink of snapping, the werewolf was losing control but Stiles didn't stop. This was supposed to be "challenging" after all.

Now with perspiration beading on his forehead from exertion but mostly from nerves, Stiles gave the final and most horrendous punch for anyone who is a human could receive. He went straight for the trachea. To Stiles' horror and undeniably to his fascination, this succeeded in knocking the air out of Derek's lungs as if he had fallen onto his back from a high place.

Derek took to his knees, his bare skin rippling in suppressed rage, there were signs of his transformation emerging when Stiles saw the dark hairs sprouting on the man's usually glossy back.

_Shit._

"Stiles…" Derek was looking down at the porch floor, hunched over with his hands supporting his upper body and Stiles looked at Derek's head, backing away before almost losing his balance when he reached the first step down.

Derek whipped his head upwards, looking directly into Stiles' eyes, "Run!"

Stiles needn't be told twice as he listened to the elongated howl of the word ripped forth from shifting vocal chords. As if a wolf was trying to speak. Stiles was making his way towards the woods as he heard floor boards being ripped up and broken like twigs, he yelled out his last words of support.

"Derek, you're in control! Resist!" Stiles didn't stop to see if his words had quelled the man because he didn't believe that Derek had even heard him over the rage cresting inside. The teen had awoken the giant that was dormant for an entire week and now it desperately wanted out to address whatever had interrupted it's slumber.

A moment passed of no signs of Derek pursuing; only Stiles' rapid foot falls could be heard hitting the ground. He wouldn't stop until he was—there!

Derek was indeed coming after him.

Heart nearly jumping from his throat, Stiles picked up speed. Not heading in any particular direction, just trying to put enough distance between him and death as possible. Should he try to climb a tree? No. The alpha will just knock it down. Maybe he should grab a large stick as weapon. That would only give the man a splinter. Stiles was certain Derek would defeat his urge to kill but he was wrong. There was nothing Stiles could do other than to keep running because even if he hid his heavy breathing would reveal his nook and cranny in no time.

His last humorous thought would be 'Good thing I didn't go with buying a rabbit costume to run through the woods in. Dying with that on…humiliating.'

Derek was much faster than a mediocre athlete and picked up on Stiles' trail with no problem until it felt like the man was breathing down his neck. Stiles zigzagged through the trees, feeling as if he's lost already and what was the point of running anymore but his pride pushed him onward. No way would he go out quitting.

Undoubtedly, Derek was now close enough to be visibly noticed. Stiles could see the trees and high plants being disturbed as the werewolf pushed past them. Stiles willed his jelly like legs forward. He would keep running until Derek sank his teeth into the back of his neck. That's all he could manage. Stiles didn't pay attention to what was in front of him anymore, his brain only registered a tree in his path that he was barely able to dodge before hankering onward.

"Stiles!" Derek was still human, which Stiles was grateful for. Maybe he stood a chance when the werewolf would catch him and plead for the human in Derek to let him live. He really did feel like prey.

"Stiles! No!" The growling voice sounded panicked and desperate.

No? What did that mean? Stiles' feet hit harder and harder as exhaustion was setting in like a fast acting drug but when his right foot went farther down than what was normal for level ground, Stiles' equilibrium summersaulted as he was pitched forward and was _falling_.

Somehow he hadn't discovered the cliff that was sitting right in front of him. Stiles had no other choice but to close his eyes tightly shut and hope the impact knocked him out so there would be no excruciating pain that came with plummeting injuries.

There was a hard thud when he reconnected with the earth in what felt like no time at all but there was no pain. In fact, he didn't feel the ground beneath him at all. No pine needles stuck to his skin or rocks pressing into him causing serious internal bleeding. If this was the ground, it was a lot warmer and softer than usual. Maybe he broke his neck and for all his efforts in life had made it to heaven. No more mortal coil. No more Derek.

Stiles opened his brown eyes fully expecting to see his legs all distorted and beyond repair in front of his face when his eyes met bronze flesh. His cheek was mashed against smooth flesh as was the rest of his torso. When Stiles tried to push up, he realized that something was holding him down. Arms. Rather large ones at which were locked firmly over his own arms (that were trapped under Stiles) until they overlapped on the top of his back. Stiles couldn't allow his mind to reach the conclusion that Derek Hale had just caught him in midair and had absorbed most of the fall. But that was the only logical explanation he had.

Stiles' eyes moved higher and connected with red ones that steadily gazed back down at him. Derek was breathing heavily which Stiles felt as the chest rose and collapsed under his palms, the teen couldn't speak or move. There was a sense of security where he was now, all wrapped up tight in hard muscular biceps and forearms, he never felt this measure of being so...safe before.

He never knew he craved it until this moment and savored the sensation of the werewolf just holding him.

There's liquid seeping into Stiles' left side which finally breaks the spell both men were under when Stiles moves his arm to travel down between their two bodies and reached the source of the wetness. They hadn't fallen into a stream or puddle had they? But it was winter... The stream would be freezing while this was…blood.

Now looking at his fingers, Stiles watched the blood as it trailed down towards his wrist.

"Derek, let me go. You're bleeding." Stiles said in a frantic voice, trying to break Derek's vice grip on his torso.

Derek growled and relented, easing his hold which Stiles broke completely to get a better look at the wound. He gasped at the garish sight.

A sturdy stick had entered Derek's side, right above the hip, and exited the flesh, piercing the man violently.

Stiles went to touch the wound but stopped short, unsure of what to do. So he just hovered his trembling hands above the protrusion, cursing loudly in a panicky voice as he apologized over and over again telling Derek not to move.

Rolling his eyes, Derek used his elbows to anchor himself in a 120 degree reclined position so that he could survey the damage with fewer hysterics.

"Wha—what did I say? Lay back down!" Stiles yelled, trying to order a boulder around with human strength was impossible and Derek stayed put and narrowed his red orbs at the younger man.

"Shut up, Stiles." Derek commanded and Stiles stammered for a moment until the slew of nervous ranting's was cut off like a slow stopping faucet. Derek crossed his right hand over to the wound and grabbed the stick and before Stiles could protest, the man yanked it out with ease; grunting as the wound hit fresh air. Blood was pouring out and Stiles wasted no time in ripping off his sweater and applying pressure to the wound.

"There's no need for that. It'll heal just fine without all that fussing." Derek pushed the balled up material and Stiles' bloody hands away, standing with some difficulty. The blood began leaking down into his denim pants, staining the dark blue print.

"I'm sorry." Stiles felt really bad because if not for him…

Derek sighed heavily, "You said that fifty times already and I got it the first time. Imagine how tired I am of you apologizing."

"But I am…sorry." Stiles didn't think he could say it enough, biting his lip and looking sheepishly at the wound. It was all his fault.

Derek rolled his eyes again, "Enough. Let's go back." Derek started walking away without even a limp. Stiles looked up at where this whole misadventure began. The sheer drop was a good fifty feet, Stiles would have been irreversibly impaired or dead if Derek hadn't have…

A hand grabbed his wrist and Stiles jumped and looked at Derek who was giving him his regular agitated face.

Derek pulled him behind him and Stiles walked automatically in the larger man's immediate footsteps. They walked in silence and Stiles wasn't sure how they made it back to the open grassy area where the house was nestled in but Derek had found the way.

Stiles looked down at the wound for the hundredth time to see the blood finally stopping and asked,

"Do you have any first aid?"

"No." Was the blunt reply.

Stiles remember Sherriff Stilinski battling with him over keeping a large box of supplies in the jeep that his dad finally won.

Taking a step towards the jeep, Stiles met resistance as he remembered Derek was still holding onto his wrist. Derek let go immediately, recalling that the two were connected by his doing. Stiles didn't comment on this and went to the rear of his jeep were he pulled out a rather large container of medical supplies from under the seat.

Derek shook his head, "That really isn't necessary."

Stiles motioned for Derek to sit on the steps, "Just do it for me okay? I'd feel better having done this instead of just letting an open wound hang out until it decides to heal."

Derek didn't fight anymore and sat down as instructed, Stiles opened the top and the thing was almost ready to vomit supplies at him from the sheer amount there was. How did his father manage to close this thing? Grumbling about an overprotective father, Stiles began cleaning the blood and dirt from around both sides of the wound. Then carefully with his bare fingers he applied ointment which seemed to sting when Derek jerked under his touch. Stiles whispered an apology, the guilt washing over him again as he ignored the impatient look he was receiving from the werewolf. Stiles put gauze on both sides which Derek assisted in holding up as the teen wrapped up the wound with more of the white material. He reached around Derek's body with each circle he made with the gauze until he felt like the wound was protected enough.

Stiles taped the end of the gauze in place and observed his handy work. Derek looked like a 90 percent unwrapped mummy.

"Feel better now?" Derek pressed, standing up stiffly as if the gauze was tight around his torso.

Stiles shrugged, still down about the whole incident.

Derek was silent as Stiles continued to feel miserable but soon suggested that the teen go home and rest since there was still school tomorrow. Stiles agreed, feeling as if he was a burden rather than a friend to Derek and trudged back to his automobile. Derek had gotten Stiles' laptop bag which miraculously survived the incident on the porch and put it in the back of the car as Stiles was just about to take the passenger seat.

"Stiles."

Stopping, Stiles look dully up at Derek who's eyes were now their original green—when they had returned Stiles had not noticed—and waited for the man to say something else. Derek looked thoughtful as if he had realized something.

"I am emotionally attached to you."

Stiles' heart skipped a very large beat.

…

It was still very early in the evening so Stiles didn't have to come up with an excuse for being late since his father was still busy at the station. Library, Scott's, and extra lacrosse practice was getting old. Stiles' head was pounding from the stress of the day and he was so emotionally drained which was so foreign to him that he had no idea how to process it just yet.

Stiles entered his room, dirt smudged, with dried blood and sweat clinging to him, and utterly exhausted.

A sniffing sound filled the room and the teen stopped dead in his tracks. Scott stood at the foot of Stiles' bed looking at him in horror.

"Why do you smell like that?"

…

**AN**: Holy shiznit! REVIEW! Sorry for any mistakes that I failed to pick up on. It's late and I just wanted to get this to you guys as soon as possible.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or its characters.

Summary: There is a bittersweet stillness that settles over Beacon Hills after Derek slays the Alpha and Scott now has a silent treaty with the Argents. It's a week after that stressful night and no one has seen heads or tails of Derek since. Stiles can't help but fidget when his thoughts come across the new Alpha. He knows it's dangerous but something inside is pulling Stiles towards the tragic Hale property. He blames it on reckless curiosity now that things are "boring" again.

Pairings: Derek/Stiles, Scott/Allison, Jackson/Lydia, FRIENDSHIP! Danny/Stiles

Rated:T

**AN**: Sorry for the long wait, I had a sign from the fanfiction gods that I must complete this chapter soon.

I was at work pulling files and the first one had the last name 'STILES', the next one had the last name STYZINSKY. Now that's down right juju there. Thank you all for your patience and your amazing reviews! Here is chapter seven! *throws New Year's confetti a tad bit too late*

The Demon I Cling To

SEVEN

"Why do you smell like that?"

Stiles jerked his arm to move over the blood stains that had seeped through his sweater and onto his under shirt; its presence there was a beacon and hiding it was useless. Still he felt the need to lessen its visual intensity.

Scott stood stiffly, his muscles beneath a grey t-shirt looked to be made of durable marble as those eyes took him in from across the room. He was obviously confused and slightly on guard which appeared to be an instinctual animal defense, one that Scott never possessed before the bite. Stiles knew his heart had skipped even before speaking, "Wha…what do you mean?"

Damn his stuttering. Scott's eyes traveled down and Stiles could almost feel his skin tingling from the severe inspection it was now undergoing; those eyes getting a good look at Derek's blood that Stiles couldn't hide. The white undershirt made the blood stain difficult to surpass even for a human's eyesight quality. Scott's brown eyes came back to meet Stiles' gaze which he knew to be frantic and filled to the brim with guilt. Scott sighed as if burdened and spoke as calmly as permitted for one in his situation, "Look…I've smelt his blood being spilled far more times than I would like to count so I can easily recognize his scent…and it's _all_ over you. So don't play dumb or attempt lying to me. Why…do you smell like Derek Hale?"

At the way his friend was demanding an answer all hard and unyielding, Stiles wanted nothing more than to run out of his own house and wait until Scott gave up and went home. But Stiles was tired and too conspicuously attired to go anywhere but in the shower.

"I…I…" Stiles stammered, eyes darting around in his skull, his safe haven now felt like a closed in oven. He wasn't ready for Scott to know about Derek, especially now that today has happened. There were moments that Stiles still didn't understand himself. But if he didn't explain everything to his best friend, just how blown out of proportion will this all become? Scott was going to throw a wrench into Stiles' plans if the young werewolf tried to interfere without knowing the entire story. Stiles heard a car horn louder than it should have been and noticed the window which Scott had used to enter was left open.

"Why are you here? I didn't expect you to come." Stiles diverted to another subject just to be able to wrestle up his voice instead of just standing there sounding like a man on the verge of a stroke, babbling nonsense.

Scott now looked affronted and Stiles knew he had sounded as if the werewolf's presence was unwelcomed. Stiles always left his window unlocked for Scott to come in and out whenever he pleased and before today, it wasn't thought of as an inconvenience.

"I _came_ because what you said today concerned me. Usually you can't stop talking about your problems. I was going to let it go but…" Scott glanced southward again, causing the human to increasingly tense up before him, "something told me not to."

Stiles stayed silent, conflicted over how to even begin this conversation. He couldn't even return Scott's direct accusatory glare.

"Did...did he try to hurt you?" Scott asked tentatively, the worry that invaded his tone was noticeable. Stiles looked up in a panic.

"What? No! God no, it's just—

"Just what? This is what you couldn't talk to me about? Stiles…what's going on?" Scott was desperate for an answer, which Stiles couldn't blame the werewolf for. He deserved to know above all else but the human also knew very well how this could end if he didn't phrase every event of the last few weeks correctly. Feeling his legs begin to shake from exhaustion, Stiles looked longingly at his messy bed for its soft and warm support.

"Can we sit? I'll tell you everything just as long as I can get off what's left of my feet." Stiles walked over to his bed and had no reservations as he collapsed boneless onto his bed; dirt and blood be damned. Scott remained standing much to Stiles' chagrin; his best friend was not beyond letting his feelings of resentment show. Obviously he was quite angry with Stiles but Stiles was too comfortable and too caught up in his thoughts to mention it.

Letting out a few heavy breaths of preparation, Stiles decided to start from the beginning.

Stiles was the receptor of several disapproving looks from Scott who stayed put against the now closed door of his bedroom, well toned arms folded defensively but didn't interrupt the human as he spoke. The human couldn't help but flinch with each abrupt furrowing of those eyebrows or a shifting of feet when his story would become hard to talk about out loud. From the first decision he made to look for the werewolf to the moment where he accidentally fell asleep in the woods and Derek had taken him in. Stiles couldn't believe how much the two had gone through until he recounted it all to his best friend. Though he did leave out the initial reason why he went searching for the alpha, and chalked it up to his curiosity getting the better of him.

"He was in a pretty terrible place when I found him—and I'm not talking about the cellar, which in itself was bad—I mean he was barely holding onto his humanity back then. You should have seen him…" Stiles trailed off, his eyes focused on the ceiling since he was lying down now; he had no will to fully face the young werewolf any longer with that judging look on his face.

"…Why didn't you tell me any of this sooner?" Scott asked, still sounding betrayed. He made it seem like it was the obvious decision Stiles should have made.

Stiles rose up like a mummy in his bed, eyes boring into Scott from across the room with his own disbelieving stare.

"And have you come and confront an unstable alpha werewolf? That would end badly and you know it. You hate Derek for what he did—for what he took from you. There was no way I could tell you. No way."

"You're damn straight I hate him, but it's no reason for you to handle this on your own. You're only—

"What? Human? You know, I'm tired of hearing that from you. I've been handling this entire messed up situation _fine_."

Scott made a beeline for Stiles which had the teen on the bed jumping back, but Scott's reflexes were lightning fast and readjusted at the drop of a dime, grabbing the bloodied shirt Stiles wore.

"Yeah, you've got it all under control." Scott growled, Stiles noticed the veins in the taller man's hand and arm were protruding aggressively from his skin from how strongly he was gripping the stained fabric. Stiles tried to not look alarmed as he leaned back, when Scott finally released his hold and backed away. Stiles gulped unintentionally, gripping the sides of the bed as Scott looked away; the realization of what he had done now fully enveloping him.

"This isn't right, Stiles. No matter how much you think you've got things under control, you'll never understand what it's like to be what we are. One moment I'm fine, the next I'm ready to rip someone's throat out if they approach me in a certain way. And if what you're saying is true about Derek, him being a more superior werewolf makes it all the more perilous for you. You have to stay away from him." Scott talked to Stiles as if he were a parent seeking forgiveness for being too harsh to their child who did something naughty. Stiles attempted to reign in his temper but still his words were on the verge of causing another rise in testosterone.

"And what do you think will happen when those hunters get here? Derek will not be able to distinguish friend from foe if I do not help him. There will be no debating this; I will continue to help him. You can't stop me." Stiles stood and started removing his clothes with some difficulty; the knuckles on his right hand ached slightly and the skin there was discolored from a bruise. Punching a werewolf was equivalent to punching a brick wrapped in thin rubber. Stiles forced back a hiss as he willed his fingers to continue removing his shoes. He knew he had to hurry and get in the shower before his dad came home to see him in such a state.

Stiles jumped when an unexpected loud bang filled the small room, looking to his friend, Scott had managed to dent the dry wall to the left of the door. Stiles cursed.

"Dammit! Now how the hell am I going to explain that, huh?" Shaking his head, Stiles went back to looking for some sweats to wear after his shower.

"How am I supposed to explain to Sherriff Stilinski that his son was killed by an out of control werewolf and I had the power to stop it but didn't?" Scott was smoldering in his trainers as he spoke with barely suppressed anger.

Stiles, now half naked, balled up the shirt with Derek's dried blood and stuffed it deep into the derelict hamper that sat in a dark corner of his closet. His father wouldn't dare go near a teenage boy's dirty laundry; it's a close second to Pandora 's Box in there.

Sighing with every fatigued muscle in his body, Stiles turned and gave Scott's fury a gentle look of his own that relayed that his intentions were set in stone, "Tell him I was helping a friend in need. I make my own decisions, Scott. None of this has to fall on you."

Stiles moved towards the door and brushed by his fuming friend, who turned to face his exposed back.

"Friend?" Scott asked in a way that sounded as though the possibility was improbable.

Stiles smiled and nodded without turning around.

"Friend."

"Is he really worth it? Worth you dying? I can't accept that. I cannot."

Stiles turned to see Scott shaking his head in jerky movements, those powerful hands at his sides were splayed and stiff, the bones cracking.

Stiles huffed, "You know, I have no plans on becoming a martyr. This will work, I'm sure of it."

"And if it doesn't?" Scott sounded so much like Derek with his pessimism.

"Then build me a monument and have a holiday named after me." Smirking, Stiles walked out of the room.

Things could've gone worse. Way worse. Stiles thought as he slowly lathered a towel with a bar of soap (he had run out of Dove Men Care two days ago). Sure Scott now looked at him as if he was insane but he agreed in the end to stave off the Argents involvement with Derek Hale. That is of course so long as the alpha kept his killing habits to strictly animals and very bad men with an affinity for disposing of innocent werewolves. Stiles could sense the unfamiliar and very disturbing strain between the two of them as Scott departed the same way he had arrived. There would be a crack in their friendship that might corrode and worsen over time if Scott couldn't find it in his heart to forgive Derek. Because Stiles knew he was giving it his all to rehabilitate the man and just recently offered up his life to the cause. There would be no abandoning his efforts or Derek even if it meant losing Scott's companionship. Was it strange he'd go that far without hesitance?

Stiles felt an all too recognizable twisting in his gut that signified how emotionally invested he was now. It's like a kid who had taken in a stray puppy for a night and promised to not get attached but bonded irrevocably with it instead. With every thought of Derek's demise, Stiles might as well be dragged down with the man. And when Derek would make progress from his efforts, Stiles' mood would improve for the rest of the day. And just earlier today…

Today was…Stiles' memory floated right back to that silent forest floor; revisiting the segment after he had fallen from the cliff and before the realization dawned on him that Derek was injured and bleeding. Closing his eyes, the teen replayed it as vividly as his imagination would allow. He recalled how tight those arms had been encasing him, protecting every inch of him from the deadly impact. He could remember that unbelievable warmth which exuded from the man beneath him. It had felt different from summer heat but still burned with an intensity that caused Stiles to shiver. Stiles' brain emerged a longing in him during those seconds that almost had him pleading for time to stop right then and there. Even though every defense in his brain pushed violently away at such unprecedented thoughts, the teen couldn't deny how deeply Derek affected him.

There was a loud knock that summoned the world around Stiles back into place, and noticed his towel was now caked heavily with the bar soap from too much lathering.

"Are you okay in there? It's been half an hour already!" The stern voice of Sherriff Stilinski penetrated the raining noise of the shower and Stiles looked horridly at the shower curtain. Had it really been that long?

"I'm fine!" Stiles shouted back and hurriedly washed his important bits.

Time seemed to always get away from him whenever his mind wondered to a certain alpha werewolf and that made Stiles uncomfortable. First in class rooms and now in the shower. His brain had garnered the ability to construct a wall to keep out everything that wasn't Derek related. It was a milestone for someone with ADHD, that's for sure. And Derek was the culprit…

Stiles laid on his back in bed that night, eyes wide and unfocused as dots begun shooting lines to their neighbors; connecting certain occurrences and emotions together until a final startling conclusion was rendered. There was only one other person in the world that managed to take up his attention, one person that Stiles wasn't close to at all but still he put them before everything else he held dear. One person that had his heart without question in the past. Lydia.

And he behaved that way…with Derek. Could it be true? Stiles' eyes were beginning to sting from the lack of blinking.

"God no. No, no, no, no, no, no, no!" Shaking his head until either cheek hit the cool pillow over and over again; the teen couldn't fight the panic rising inside of him. Did Stiles Stilinski have a _crush_ on Derek Hale?

"No…" Stiles whimpered. This was territory that never crossed his mind. There was no place for it, no need to contemplate it, for he _always_ had Lydia. Now that that opportunity had run its course and faded without so much as a trace, Stiles stood on new territory. One that implied that Stiles was a homosexual. Every time Stiles would deny, his memories provided ample evidence against him. How did this work? How could he be one hundred percent sure that he had those sort of longings towards a man? Should he meander around the boy's locker room a tad bit longer than usual after Lacrosse? Stiles wanted to slap himself. How creepy would that be? Besides, there had been no attraction to men until Derek. Was it just Derek? Stiles thought of being trapped under the older man on the stairs that one time and nearly succumbed to a violent shudder that was forming over his entire frame in a not so displeasing manner .Then immediately he replaced Derek's body in his mind's eye with Grady Maconnoly's from sixth period and almost gagged.

"Definitely just a Derek thing." Stiles whispered out in conclusion and settled back down when he realized he had sat up rigid from the nightmarish day dream of Maconnoly straddling him. Still, no matter which way he looked at it, Stiles had a thing for a full fledge, pee while standing, hairy legged man that can turn into a werewolf on a whim.

Stiles cringed, "What's wrong with me?"

Despite how tired Stiles had been last night, sleep evaded him like a cunning fox. His new found feelings had tortured his futile attempt at resting until the dreaded first light of day. Derek's voice kept saying those six words over and over again and they never ran stale; every time had brought on a brand new flop of Stiles' stomach or a breath hitching shallow heartbeat.

"_I am emotionally attached to you."_

The teen wanted to smile in delight and groan in agony at the same time. Will there ever be an end to this game of ping pong currently being played between the feelings of jubilation and fear? He was definitely the unfortunate ball the two were smacking back and forth. Stiles got out of bed that morning haggard and droopy, his aching limbs dragged unenthusiastically to their destination. He put on a convincing façade that assured his father's ignorance to the teen's issues and drove to school on autopilot.

It didn't surprise Stiles that his best friend hadn't visited him at the lockers before first period in their unspoken ritual, but still it left him feeling dejected as he trudged onward to History alone. Upon entering the class, Stiles' eyes automatically found Scott only to make eye contact with the young werewolf. Scott's face was unreadable, his thoughts closed off from Stiles when they shouldn't be. Stiles' eyes traveled down to look at the linoleum floor and got into his seat. When he chanced a look at his best friend again, Scott was involved in a conversation with Alison.

Some part of Stiles wanted to confide in Scott his predicament but knew it wasn't wise. Scott was already at the end of his rope with Derek so divulging this would be the straw that'd break the camel's back. In the end, this left Stiles without a single person to confide in. That person was supposed to be Scott, but Stiles had sacrificed his friendship for the guy he apparently liked. Stiles didn't realize how isolated he would be if Scott wasn't available. Ignorance is bliss.

"Stilinski…"

Stiles jolted into a proper sitting position, thinking a teacher was addressing his lack of attention and was surprised to see Danny standing over his desk with a chair in hand.

"Uh. What did I miss exactly?" Stiles looked around the room and noticed everyone was paired off with another classmate. Danny gave Stiles this look that was solely reserved for Stiles and sighed before sitting in the chair on the other side of the small desk.

"Each group is assigned a country and we have to explain how that country was affected by Hitler's rule. We got Poland." Danny informed Stiles in a manner that showed he wasn't pleased to have to explain all this to Stiles again.

Being overly accustomed to Danny's repugnance towards him, Stiles didn't pay it much mind and nodded. The assignment would be due on Monday which left an entire weekend to complete it but knowing Danny to be a straight A student, it'd be finished by tomorrow evening with or without Stiles' involvement.

Ink pen in hand and blotting the stark white paper, Stiles' mind begins to wander again. What would Derek do if he found out? Certainly the man's mere tolerance of the teen couldn't accommodate affections being directed his way. No. Derek would not be delighted and push Stiles away again. And that would _hurt_.

"Stilinski…" Danny breathed out in the same manner as before and Stiles watched his partner snatch the pen from his slack fingers. At the questioning look being shot at him, Danny let his eyes fall to Stiles' notebook which indicated for him to look down as well. Stiles had gotten so far as to write the title and the opening sentence, the period was the size of a large deformed mole and had a tail. Looking back up, Stiles was greeted with a frown.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" Danny rolled his eyes and threw the pen down onto the desk. The question wasn't asked to get a response and Stiles didn't bother giving one as he watched Danny resume his own writing (he was now at the end of his first page).

How did Danny manage to stay quiet for so long about his own homosexuality? Stiles looked over his partner's concentrated face with wonder. When did he first find out he liked other men? Did he stay up all night and fret just like Stiles had? Or was he always so confident about it?

"Do you…want to come over to mine after school?" Stiles had the offer out of his mouth before reconsidering it.

Danny didn't even look up.

"No."

Stiles didn't want to plead. At least he didn't want to plead out loud. Looking over at Scott who had looked over at him, Stiles didn't utter another word about it since he knew desperation would creep into his tone if he tried any further.

…

At lunch, Stiles had chosen to forsake an awkward visit at the cafeteria and went to the library where the rejects would frequent. Taking out his phone once seated at an empty table surrounded by bookshelves, Stiles thumbed his downright plea to Danny's cell.

**I REALLY need to talk to you, pls come over today.**

Stiles drummed his fingers and jiggled his leg with anxiety.

The phone buzzed loudly against the table.

**What is it about?**

Stiles sighed; there could have been no reply at all so this was better than nothing.

**It's private. I need to talk to you. ALONE aka MY HOUSE. **

It took all of lunch period for a new reply to come and by that time Stiles was a nervous wreck; his brain on the verge of shutting down from too much thinking. Stiles had grabbed on with both hands at the opportunity to have someone to confide in, especially someone who has been down this road before and could offer advice and be discreet. So if Danny rejected him again, Stiles knew his brain would explode all over the library. Stiles smiled big at his phone.

**I'll meet you at the piece of crap jeep after school then.**

Texting a quick 'thnx!" Stiles made his way to his next class feeling a tad bit less combustible.

…

Stiles hadn't spoken one word to Scott all day and departing from school wasn't any different as his best friend got into the passenger seat of Allison's swanky car. As promised, Danny stood stiffly beside the back tires of Stiles' jeep, his jaw twitching with obviously clenched teeth as other students walked by witnessing the first string lacrosse player waiting at a last string lacrosse wannabe's vehicle. Stiles didn't waste time expressing his gratitude and told the other teen to hop in. They went in silence which probably surprised Danny since Stiles was a talkative mess when nervous but all Stiles could do was think of how exactly to confess that he thinks he's somewhat gay. There was _no_ easy way of bringing that up, even if it was with Danny.

Stiles handed over a bottle of water to the other teen who took a seat at Stiles' unkempt desk. Stiles remained standing in the clear space of his room, ringing his wrists with worry. It was devastatingly quiet.

"So…Uh, thanks for coming. Really." There was a hyper anxious ring in every word and Danny raised an eyebrow at this.

"Well? What was so important you wasted a few of my text messages for this month on it?" Danny opened the water and drank fully before setting the bottle onto a stack of comics. Stiles really didn't mind the condensation ruining the cover at this moment.

Stiles opened his mouth to explain but only a gust of air came out. Groaning, Stiles tried again and this time a string of nonsense flew out. Stiles closed his eyes tight and tried not to scream.

"Dammit Stilinski, _talk_!" Danny yelled out, his impatience understandable.

"It's, it's hard you know. I can't just _say_ it but if I don't you'll leave and I don't want you to leave because if you leave I'll be alone in this and I can't stand not having someone to talk to. But I. Can't. _Say_. It. Because it's ridiculous." Stiles wanted to tear his hair out if there was anything to firmly grasp on to and settled for banging his forehead on the nearest wall. There was an immediate tug on the nape of his shirt and Stiles couldn't punish himself anymore. Looking up with distraught eyes at a bewildered Danny, Stiles held back the urge to tear up; his bottom lip all quivery. Danny let go of the back of Stiles' shirt and sighed.

"Talk to me, Stiles. What's going on?" Something in Danny's voice towards Stiles had changed and Stiles felt himself deflate from the tensing in his upper body from the discomfort of this situation.

"I like him. I like him more than I should and I don't know how or why but I like him." Stiles' eyes were trained to the floor as he said this; afraid of the judgment he'd receive for saying such things out loud.

Silence followed his confession and Stiles couldn't stop himself from gauging the teen's reaction. Danny certainly looked surprised to say the least. His eyes were wider than normal and mouth was slack, his hands at his side hung limp and forgotten.

"Oh." Danny looked at Stiles in a way that showed he was seeing the other teen in a whole new light. Stiles, now that the terrible secret had a new host to devour, walked over tiredly to his bed and sat with his shoulders slumped.

"Yeah… 'oh'." Stiles reiterated, eyes not seeing.

Danny seemed to have collected his rational mind and sat by Stiles. Stiles could feel those eyes taking him in unabashedly. Somehow this had gotten way more solemn than Stiles had meant it to go down. There was supposed to be mild questions of curiosity and then an impatient Danny who would demand to know why he was being asked those questions before figuring it out by himself. But the fear had trapped Stiles until he felt suffocated and turned the intended light occasion into a dark affair.

Stiles heard Danny swallow—that's how dead quiet it was—before talking again.

"How long have you felt this way towards him?"

Stiles had to search his scrambled brain, was it always there and he didn't know it? Or was there a specific time and place where he had undoubtedly shifted his entire outlook of Derek?

"I don't know exactly, I just know I've spent a lot of time with him lately and I started to realize just last night that it…wasn't…_normal_." Stiles shot his head up when the words fell out and looked apologetically at the teen beside him.

"Sorry I—

Danny shook his head, "It's fine. I felt the same way too when I first had an inkling I was attracted to my own sex."

Stiles frowned, "How did you know..for sure?"

Danny smirked and looked down at Stiles' crotch, "Well other than the obvious?"

Eyes as wide as a startled owl's, Stiles couldn't fight the blush rising to his cheeks, "I…I'm not _there_ yet. There's just feelings… I care for him…_a lot. _So I'm not sure if it's just caring for him or an actual crush but it feels like a crush but I don't want to freak out for nothing and ruin a friendship if it isn't a crush and it's just…caring."

Danny continues to stare at Stiles and this makes Stiles feel uncertain.

"Did any of that make sense just now?" Stiles chuckled nervously.

Danny nodded and raised his eyebrows, "You just astound me is all."

"How come?" Stiles asked truly perplexed.

"Usually when a gay guy finds out he's gay, there is a stage he goes through where it's all about sex. We are men after all and sex is all we think about. So it's all about porn, experimentation, and promiscuity for a while and then later comes the yearning for a relationship and actual feelings. But you…maybe you aren't gay after all Stilinski."

Stiles thought about it.

"Not that I'm playing down your concerns or anything, it's just that maybe what you're experiencing is great admiration for this guy and mistaking it for _those_ kinds of feelings."

Stiles perked up at that train of thought and grasped on firmly. Was he overreacting? Was it all just admiration he felt?

"Well he did take my stick for me…" Stiles muttered in deep thought.

"He what?" Danny looked at Stiles like he was crazy, which wasn't unusual for the two of them.

"He saved my life, bled for me and said he was emotionally attached to me. When he isn't attached to anything or anyone. Ever." Stiles explained.

"Could it be hero-worship then?" Danny supposed.

"Like when someone saves your life and you develop feelings for them?" Stiles asked.

"Yeah exactly. So it's deep rooted admiration most likely. But first to be sure, have you ever thought of kissing him?" Danny abruptly asked, causing Stiles' hand that supported his body weight to slip and he shifted unstably.

"N-no…"

"Do you have wet dreams about him or of any men in general?"

"W-well…no."

"Do you even fantasize about him at all, like say you would with Lydia?" Danny smirked at Stiles' tinted cheeks that completely bared his guilt.

"Not exactly, no."

Danny nodded as if coming to a conclusion, "Well there you go. Not gay. Unless you are the most innocent gay man I've ever come across. I think you are," Danny performed air quotes, "'normal'."

Stiles sat in silence as he let it all soak in. Admiration…Was it really? He remembered instantly the way he felt when being held and tried to rationalize it for the hundredth time. Stiles wasn't used to being touched that way so coming from anyone would garner that same response from him, right? After his mother died affection died along with her in the Stilinski household. So it was perfectly normal to relish an embrace from another human being after going so long without. Yes. That made sense.

And what about the time Derek had gone completely feral and trapped him on the stairs? Two weeks later it still bothered Stiles in a never ending parade of pleasurable shock waves throughout his body. How could he rationalize his response to that? Surely if it was just admiration, Stiles wouldn't react the way he always does to that memory. Where was the sound logic against that? Well it didn't help that he was a male and a virgin at that so any stimulation of his hormones was liable. Even Derek Hale. So it was all just chemical. So add science plus growing admiration and friendship and that would equal being fooled into thinking he was attracted to a man. That made sense as well. Perfect sense.

Smiling and laughing with noticeable relief, Stiles patted Danny on the back, "Thanks man, you didn't have to come, but you did. I'm really grateful. I feel so much better now."

"No problem, just do me a favor and don't let me have a failing grade on this history assignment." Danny was dead serious.

Stiles agreed, "That's the least I can do."

…

Stiles worked hard and printed out the finished product of his labor and handed it over to Danny.

"If I keep it, I'll end up losing it." Stiles said honestly and didn't mind the exasperated look he received.

"Good night Stilinski…you need one." Danny was referring to of course the dark half circles under Stiles' eyes.

"Believe me, as soon as I shut this door I'm crawling into bed." Stiles waved off Danny's retreating form. Stiles had offered him a ride home, but being popular, Danny had his choice of connections to pick him up. Stiles was overly gracious that it was now officially the weekend and would sleep in as late as possible tomorrow morning. Surpassing the kitchen and even the bathroom, Stiles kept to his word and went straight to his room taking off his outer clothing along the way until only his plaid boxers were left and curled into the comforter like a spoiled cat.

His last thought being of how ridiculous he had been to believe he was falling in love with Derek.

"Stiles, you really are an idiot."

…

Stiles could feel sleep fading away and his eyes opened to a still very dark room. He should have slept through the night and all the way through the morning but it was still night time. Unless…he slept through all of Saturday. Stiles went to check his phone which rested charging next to him when his eyes caught hold of something peculiar. Freezing, Stiles eyes locked onto a tall figure in the darkest corner of his room and flailed backwards into the headboard of his bed; his voice lost in whispers instead of screams.

"Oh god, what the _hell_?"

The hulking figure hastily stepped forward until a stream of moon light from the window caressed his face and Stiles immediately recognized that stubbly jaw and that jet black hair. But he still couldn't believe his eyes.

"_Derek?_ Dude…what the _hell_?" Stiles said again now in a less panicky voice and grabbed at this chest. It felt like his heart would stop at any second from working so hard inside his chest, its pounding so painful from the fear and adrenaline. Derek just stood there with an readable expression that Stiles was used to and ignored it as he continued talking.

"Don't do that shit ever again! I thought I was in Paranormal Activity 4 or something! Ugh…my heart…"

"Are you going to let go of that bat, or are you planning on using it?" Derek asked, his eyes locked on Stiles' hand that was indeed clutched around the base of a slugger he kept propped by his bedside at all times. Cliché he knew it to be but Stiles needed to feel safe somehow. Letting his fingers unclasp the smooth wood, Stiles hadn't even realized he had went for it in his panicky state. Good to know his instincts were up to par.

It took a moment for his sleeping mind to react to his situation accordingly but it finally dawned on him that Derek Hale was in his bedroom when he should be in the woods far from here.

"Why…how are you here right now? It's dangerous." Stiles was worried. What if Derek had mauled someone on the way? Stiles looked him over. From what he could see—which wasn't much—there was no blood on his chest or denim jeans.

Derek lifted a hand to rub at his messy hair, looking uncomfortable which confused and made the teen even more anxious. Did he really hurt someone?

"I…you didn't show yesterday. I thought maybe the fall from earlier—maybe I didn't entirely protect you from the fall and you were injured, so I came to…"

The man's voice was rough and trailed off in uncertainty but the words and implications were endearing, Stiles couldn't stop his smile which grew like a sunrise.

"Sorry. I should have texted or called to tell you I wouldn't be coming. Something…came up." Stiles recalled exactly what that "something" was and it had enveloped so much of his attention that the teen had completely overlooked his usual routine and didn't give Derek a warning of his absence. Balling up his fists into the comforter, Stiles looked at the man who looked back at him with his same intense gaze that wasn't dulled at all by the darkness of the room. Derek still made Stiles feel differently than he had ever felt for another man but he quickly reminded himself it was just admiration. He admired Derek's strength, his good will, his heart, his abs…

Stiles blinked hard, his ab…ility to withstand hardships. That's what he had meant. But could a person really make such a mistake while thinking to themselves?

"You could have just texted me, you didn't have to risk coming here." Stiles looked at his padded fists, his hands grabbing tighter at the fabric in his attempt at staying calm but it wasn't working. His heart was racing again after its small respite and there was no hiding his anxiety and knowing Derek could hear his heart pounding so clearly, only made it worsen further.

Derek didn't respond or offer an explanation on why his phone was insufficient but instead insisted on asking, "Are you okay? Not hurt anywhere?"

Stiles looked up at Derek who was giving his exposed body a once over, checking for any injuries. The teen had to resist the urge to cover his narrow chest like a maiden in front of an imposing knight. Instead Stiles took to his feet as confident as possible (he was still a tad bit sore) just so he can prove his health and get those burning eyes off his susceptible flesh.

"I'm fine, see? Just a few sore knuckles and an ache in my leg for treating you like a great big punching bag the other day. Sorry about that." Stiles grinned and tried to play off his erratic heartbeat as if they both didn't hear it pounding away in their ears.

Derek titled his head in a manner that made Stiles picture a large black dog in his place.

"You're hiding something from me. Maybe I should thoroughly check you out just to make sure." Derek moved closer, not much distance had to be covered in this limited amount of space and Stiles' eyes grew wide.

"W-what? I just told you I'm fine. Shoo." Stiles laughed nervously taking equal measure to step away from the werewolf who now looked determined to step into Stiles' personal bubble. Stiles clipped his thigh on his night stand but kept full focus on Derek.

Derek smirked in a way that had the teen's peach fuzz on end and didn't realize he ran out of room to maneuver; meeting back first into the door.

"You did the same for me, disinfecting and bandaging my wound, I figured I should repay the favor." Derek now looked positively impish and Stiles immediately recognized this look from several other times it was flashed his way. Like the unforgettable time on the stairs outside the Hale house…

Something rose up in Stiles as Derek closed the space between them and he looked up into Derek's dark eyes which were looking back down at him in amusement. Stiles' gut fluttered as if he was on a plunging rollercoaster and he wasn't so disturbed by his wild heart beat drumming so rapidly that surely his chest was rising with each beat. If he was interpreting this all correctly...was it…anticipation he felt?

Derek rested on the door with a massive forearm above Stiles' head, leaning his head farther down until their noses were an inch apart and stayed there without faltering, Derek could be so accurate with his wolf abilities. Stiles felt like he'd go cross eyed and dropped his gaze, he wasn't trying to escape. He should be slipping into the large gap Derek left for Stiles to escape and break this…moment that was cast over them but no, he still allowed himself to be in this situation. _Why?_

Stiles' breathing hitched when he felt a calloused hand land on his waist and failed not to tremble as that overly warm hand dragged its way north up his side and then the blunt finger nails grazed downward and over his rib cage which had Stiles almost in a heap on the floor. But the teen shot out his arm until it connected with the hard terrain of Derek's upper abs.

"St-stop." Stiles breathed out heavily, eyes pleading with what he knew to be confusion and arousal filling his gaze.

Derek looked at Stiles in a manner which Stiles clearly made out to be resolve and Derek used his right hand which had been looming above Stiles to now take the teen's resisting hand into his own and slightly banged it on the door next to Stiles' head which emitted a thumping sound from the wood.

Looking at his trapped hand in surprise and slight horror, Stiles turned back to find the gaze of the werewolf; red and burning.

"Derek…" Stiles whispered, his heart now beating at the pace of a hummingbird's. And it wasn't fear that drove it.

The man's left hand resumed its path downward until Stiles' smaller waist was ensnared and pulled him flush against the larger man. Stiles didn't pull away and allowed himself to be held; his trapped hand now just being held at their sides. Stiles' feet didn't touch the ground and it seemed of no strain for Derek to hold him this way so the teen relaxed and shivered as Derek's nose found its way to the smaller man's neck.

"You still smell amazing." Derek finally spoke but his voice was mostly a muffled growling noise that gave away his loss of control over the wolf. But somehow this was much less scary; maybe somewhere in Derek's turmoil the man was keeping a leash on the werewolf. Stiles was grateful for that.

But that thought flew out the window when Stiles felt Derek run his lips down the sensitive skin of his neck, the man inhaled deeply as he made his way to Stiles' bare shoulder and opened his mouth to drive his human teeth gently into the flesh there.

Bolts of electricity ravaged his insides and Stiles' head fell back, his shocked moan of pleasure was unmistakable as Derek supported the arch of his back to keep the teen from falling backwards. Stiles couldn't understand how Derek had this affect on him and couldn't hold another thought as he felt the man's tongue tasting his skin between those teeth and lips. Stiles' free hand held on tightly to a large rippling bicep, closed his eyes, and enjoyed the hot embrace.

This wasn't just admiration. Maybe Stiles wasn't an idiot.

…

AN: I'm sorry if this chapter wasn't "all that" and I hope you don't drop this story like it's hot. For I shall do better! REVIEW!


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or its characters.

Summary: There is a bittersweet stillness that settles over Beacon Hills after Derek slays the Alpha and Scott now has a silent treaty with the Argents. It's a week after that stressful night and no one has seen heads or tails of Derek since. Stiles can't help but fidget when his thoughts come across the new Alpha. He knows it's dangerous but something inside is pulling Stiles towards the tragic Hale property. He blames it on reckless curiosity now that things are "boring" again.

Pairings: Derek/Stiles, Scott/Allison, Jackson/Lydia, FRIENDSHIP! Danny/Stiles

Rated:M

_AN: This is pathetic, I know. I should have more posted than this but life happens and takes away from the pleasurable things. I just wanted to post SOMETHING. And don't get me wrong, I didn't just slap this together. It took time. I hope you enjoy it however small it is._

The Demon I Cling To

EIGHT

Stiles put much effort into not sounding like a catholic schoolgirl having her first experience with the bad boy down the street but it couldn't be helped. Every touch initiated by the man holding him landed on his exposed flesh with a searing pleasure that was equally met with a positive reaction from the teen. Derek, even in his current state, was quite gentle as rough fingers caressed Stiles' torso, his hot breath a small igniting warning before his lips kissed at a pale collar bone or shoulder. The teen allowed himself to be lowered onto the mattress by those strong arms. Although his heart raced and his breathing heavy, none of it broke those red eyes off of him. His breathing hitched however when Derek hovered himself over the teen, his solid weight sank Stiles further into the bedding. The two didn't exchange words but their bodies hummed with an aura of thick lust that begged to be satiated.

Derek seemed to have no qualms with fulfilling that wish. Stiles just watched hazily as the older man broke his predatory gaze from his own and dipped his head to the pale chest heaving from labored breaths. Stiles' eyes widened with new life when he felt the wolf's tongue ghost over one his nipple.

"Nnn…no, wait," it was hard to form words as Derek decided to continue to lick and suck on a part of Stiles' body that the young man didn't even know could make him so hard. It was beginning to well up an anxiousness in him that made him realize this was really happening and it was moving way too fast…

But when Derek abandoned the now saliva covered hardened nipple, Stiles was lost again in pleasure when its partner was shown the same attention. Stiles back arched and the fear began to subside as all he could feel was that tongue dragging over and over again on sensitive skin. Derek seemed to like to torture whoever was at his mercy.

One at a time, Derek took Stiles' wrists into his hands which had been pressing against the man's chest in weak protest and drove them into the mattress beside Stiles' head. The werewolf repositioned himself between Stiles' legs, the man's knees spread them further apart. Stiles fought at the grip on his captured hands but all fight ceased when Derek pressed his lower body into the teen's groin and grinded their hips together roughly in one swift move. The unfamiliar friction against his arousal made Stiles groan out an expletive, his eyes unseeing as the pleasure rolled over him in waves. Stiles felt Derek burry his face into his neck and bed and then another solid thrust of those powerful hips came, the impression of a hard erection under denim was undeniable to Stiles as he cried out once again.

"Derek." The name sounded desperate in a voice that couldn't be his because it was drowned in desire and darker than his voice had ever been. The werewolf growled in response and this time Stiles felt teeth of more feral origin upon the crook of his neck and before panic could rise, another hard thrust followed, connecting their arousals together and rocking Stiles upward from the force. And as the werewolf drove his hips down, those fangs grazed soft flesh; Stiles felt the skin break but the pain only added fuel to the fire burning in the pit of his stomach.

Mouth parted from the latest moan, Stiles was bracing himself for another fantastic but terrifying thrust of those hips and closed his eyes tight. But the wait lasted a beat longer than it should have and there was no movement at all. In fact it felt as if the man above him had turned to stone. Stiles opened his eyes and dared a look at the werewolf. Derek's red eyes were firmly connected to the door across the way. Confused, Stiles frowned and tried to think through his burning lust.

"De…rek?" The name escaped tentatively and as they finished filling the air, Derek in an inhuman way swiveled his head back down to nail Stiles with those eyes. Except they bled red no longer.

Before another comment could leave Stiles' lips, Derek had released the younger man from his hold and vacated the room by way of the window with speed and agility only someone supernatural could muster. All the teen could manage was a stunned look that was directed at the window as if demanding answers from it.

The door to Stiles' room swung open and Stiles noticed his father brandishing a shot gun, looking ready to discharge it.

"Da-Dad! What the hell?" Startled and feeling as if he had been caught watching porn, Stiles grabbed around for his blanket that was trapped beneath his body. He only managed to wrap his lower half like a burrito before the Sherriff stepped inside the room; eyes weary but still trained to look for anything out of place. When there seemed to be no threat, Sherriff Stilinski dropped the gun to his side and looked down at the teen.

"I heard noises coming from your room. Given how south things been going lately I couldn't risk just ignoring it. Are you okay, son?" The tired man glanced at the fully opened window and furrowed his eyebrows. Stiles looked to the window as well and burst forward with his excuse before his father became any more suspicious.

"I'm great! I just uh fell out of bed. Really…vivid dream…" Stiles trailed off.

If only it was a dream.

The Sherriff noticed the awkward way Stiles held the blanket clamped around his midsection and a rare smirk formed.

"Right. Just…try to keep it down next time." The man backtracked and shut the door on Stiles' stuttering and floundering in an attempt to form a protest.

Smacking his forehead in utter embarrassment, Stiles rammed the back of his head into the pillow and tried not to scream.

…

AN: Again, I apologize for how short this is. Forgive me?


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or its characters.

Summary: There is a bittersweet stillness that settles over Beacon Hills after Derek slays the Alpha and Scott now has a silent treaty with the Argents. It's a week after that stressful night and no one has seen heads or tails of Derek since. Stiles can't help but fidget when his thoughts come across the new Alpha. He knows it's dangerous but something inside is pulling Stiles towards the tragic Hale property. He blames it on reckless curiosity now that things are "boring" again.

Pairings: Derek/Stiles, Scott/Allison, Jackson/Lydia, FRIENDSHIP! Danny/Stiles

Rated:M

_AN: I thank all of you for reviews, I survive off of them. Okay so hopefully I'm back on track now and I hope you enjoy!_

The Demon I Cling To

NINE

A cigarette glowed amber in the dark desolate countryside near the county line of Beacon Hills as the man inhaled its deadly toxin; steady fingers dropped the cancer stick back to his side. He leaned against the grill of his pickup truck, the tires resembled those of a miniature monster truck; ready to crush anything less superior than itself. And the man was a reflection of his vehicle. Enlarged with muscle mass and already standing at an impressive height, he towered over most and always walked with a sense of purpose which made everyone part like a sea before Moses. There was a darkness to his eyes that was pure emotion rather than the shade of his irises for they were a blue that almost shone clear in the right light.

His Marlboro cigarette had burned to its orange stub with his final inhale and the man flicked it onto the road and watched as small sparks ignited with each abrupt contact with the asphalt.

Looking down the black length of the two lane road, he hissed a curse before reaching into his back pocket for another cancer stick. He was able to place the cigarette between his dry lips and ignite the lighter when a shock of LED lighting washed his presence in its glow.

He shielded his eyes and wished he could do the same with his ears as the significant roar and wail of a motorcycle accosted his eardrums.

Letting out a slew of curses that only he could comprehend (the cigarette falling forgotten to the ground), the man raised his burly arms and waved them back and forth before the noisy machine. He placed himself in the middle of the road just to make sure.

The motorcycle kept racing towards him, until the last possible moment before hitting the breaks. A loud skidding cry leapt through the cold night air and only a meter of empty road distanced the two as the bike and its rider stopped sideways. The black helmet was immediately removed to reveal the largest grin and wild vibrant eyes.

The man fully standing gave a grunt of displeasure and greeted his younger counterpart curtly, "Andy."

The gleeful look on Andy's face didn't fall and the grin just grew wider, "_Paul_."

Paul wasn't amused or affected by the airy jubilant aura that fell off this motorcyclist and growled out, "Could you have picked noisier transportation? We need to keep a low profile, we're hunters for god's sake!"

Andy rolled his eyes and glanced behind the mountain of a man, "Says the guy in the sweet sooped up pickup truck. Bet it growls just as much as you and spits out black smoke to boot."

Paul ignored this quip at him and continued, "And you're late. As usual."

Scoffing, the motorcyclist slowly led his puffing bike to the emergency lane behind Paul's monstrosity and shut the engine off. The night was almost deafening in its wake.

"Well it looks like I'm earlier than most. I don't see Jole gracing us with his presence as of yet." Andy swung a leg off his bike and stood a head shorter than Paul.

Paul grunted before whisking out his third cigarette and just holding it between thick fingers as he replied, "Jole is bringing us something that is quite difficult to transport."

He noticed the look of suspicion crossing Andy's face.

"You two have been like little school girls with your secrets. When are you going to invite me in your circle?"

Paul smirked, "I figured unpredictable men such as yourself enjoy surprises."

Andy threw him a glare, "I'm sure when you say 'unpredictable' you really mean 'unreliable'. I'm so _sorry_ I don't meet your criteria as a hunter. But for some reason you still require my assistance…" Andy tilted his head then smirked as a thought occurred to him, "Oh yeah, maybe it's because I'm the only one 'unpredictable' enough to take on such a vapid and inane mission."

Paul tensed at the slight and began to stalk the short distance between the two men but stopped when lights flashed with much of the same fashion Andy's had, except there were two headlights now. Both men watched as the wide truck slowed down heavily and Paul knew it had to be Jole. The taller man's shoulders lost altitude with the new distraction in place and Paul quickly turned his interest from beating Andy's face in. The hefty black truck pulled over on their side of the road behind Andy's bike and cut the soft purring engine.

The driver's door swung open. A man almost as meaty as Paul himself got out and walked purposefully over to him, clapping the man heartily on the back of his shoulder in greeting. Paul returned the physical sentiment with equal amount of force and smiled wide.

"You made it in one piece." He started.

"Of course. After I heard you lost your sweet heart, had to come no matter what." Jole mostly growled out in a voice so dirty and deep, only continuous smoking could claim its distortion.

Paul nodded once, "And I'm grateful." He took a glance behind the large man to look at his truck with question evident in his eyes, "Did he cooperate or did you have to kill him?" He asked right out and noticed Andy's ears perked up at the odd question.

Jole looked over his shoulder as well.

"Fortunately for him and his lot, he folded quite nicely. Have you not been keeping up with the headlines?"

Paul chuckled, "You know me—always a current events man. And can I say, I've always been a fan of your work."

Jole looked pleased with himself to say the least as his chest got bigger and stance straighter, "You're not as creative as I am, my friend."

"No I am not," Paul agreed, "I was afraid the boy would crumble under the pressure."

"Well you know what it's like. These beasts will turn on each other in a heartbeat if it meant they'd live to pollute the Earth another day. They may look human on occasion but they're just slightly more evolved animals that need to be hunted and put down." Jole spat on the asphalt with disgust coloring his face.

Andy regarded Jole with uncertainty before the younger man introduced himself into the conversation, "Some say the same about us humans. That pesky little fact that we descend from apes…which happens to be an animal."

A long stiff silence fell between the small group of hunters as Jole sized up his comrade, the younger man didn't wither under the hard stare. Jole cleared his throat to end the stalemate, "Let's just keep our species at the top of the food chain, shall we? We've got work to do." Jole ended whatever disagreement that was being born and looked back to Paul with a silent inquiry of their next move.

Andy looked to Paul as well with raised eyebrows.

Paul nodded and took the lead.

"Beacon Hills inhabits a lot of forest area as you can see. So we'll have to start combing through them; that means looking for residences on the edge of town. And as taxing as it sounds I've come across _real _hunters that have seen carcasses of large animals ripped to shreds with no leads as to what did it. Now that we have our main weapon thanks to Jole here, we can cover more ground and get results." Paul grinned triumphantly.

...

Stiles had somehow managed to fall asleep during the night hours but that didn't mean his slumber was restful. On the contrary, the teen woke up with no blood in his left arm and right leg. His arm was trapped beneath his chest and was now just resurfacing; the limb felt like a dead fish. His right leg was lifted and resting on the wall that his mattress was pressed against. He actually slept like this…

Groaning, Stiles jiggled his hand and leg until the sensation of pins jabbing him relentlessly overcame the numbness. When his extremities were saved from death, the teen got up and painfully walked around his bedroom with a limp. He didn't know what to do next. The events of last night assaulted his brain like a tidal wave and he couldn't come up for air. He could feel the stinging from his eyeballs as his eyes got wider and wider in disbelief. Looking to the still pried open window as evidence, Stiles couldn't write it off as one very strange dream.

He walked over to the window as if he were impersonating a cyborg with very stiff joints and pulled down the pane of glass until it was securely closed. Automatically, his hand touched the lock with every intention of dragging the lever but fell short when Derek's hot breath ghosted across Stiles' brain.

He knew he enjoyed every second of last night's encounter with the werewolf. Even though there was fear and anxiety, Stiles was more inclined to embrace the excitement and arousal he had experienced instead. Before Derek had turned everything upside down with his visit, Stiles had convinced himself that he wasn't attracted to the man. But now, obviously he had been proven wrong—very wrong.

Stiles didn't allow himself to lock the window and walked in his cyborg fashion back to the bed. The bed where _it_ happened. Letting out a shaky breath, Stiles needed to plan his next move. So…he what? …_Liked_ Derek? _Loved? _Stiles shook his head fiercely at the embarrassing thought. No love, can't be love. But what was for certain was that he was attracted to Derek the way he was supposed to be attracted to girls. He wanted to feel Derek pulling his body close to the older man's again, feel that unbelievable warmth the man possessed and experience last night's encounter a million times over and possibly more. Stiles' groin gave an honest and agreeable twitch at that. So he was the girl instead.

"How did I end up like this?" Stiles groaned out loud but then another thought surfaced from his memory of last night had ended with his father interrupting the heated moment. Derek's facial expression had been branded into the teen's mind when the man broke from his haze. Horrified, guilt ridden and confused all at once, Derek had fled and left many things unsaid. Not like there had been time but Stiles had waited for Derek to return after the Sherriff departed but all that came was sleep from focusing too long on the lone window.

Stiles wanted desperately to know now how Derek felt about him. Was this just the side effect of the alpha being in control or was there actual meaningful intention behind Derek's ministrations? All the occurrences that took place between the two allowed Stiles to unwillingly hope that Derek wanted Stiles the way Stiles wanted him in return. From saving his life from the fall to checking his wellbeing, surely Derek held affection of some kind…

"I'm _such_ a girl." He muttered out with mortified undertones. He began to realize that every time he encountered this situation every revelation and thought was a novelty to him and ripped at his pride and gut like it set out to devour him whole. Infatuation wasn't supposed to be this humiliating was it?

"I _like_ Derek Hale." Stiles said it out loud for the first time. And there was that gut wrenching feeling again and the skipping of his brutalized heart. Would he ever get used to having these feelings for another male?

Stiles' eyes landed on his cell and a hand was already picking up on it and fingers deftly sifting through his contacts. His finger paused over the call option but resumed and pressed it. Lifting the phone to his ear, Stiles eyes looked back to his unkempt bedding.

The ringing went on for longer than what should be possible and at some point Stiles had drowned it out as he was flooded with the pleasant sensations of last night's tryst.

"_Damn it, whoever this is better start talking or I give this number to the police and say it's a sex offender trying to meet up with me."_ Danny grumbled very groggy and raspy, the sleep evident in his voice.

Stiles had only caught half of the threat, eyes lighting with awareness and heavy confusion, "What?"

"_Wait is this…_STILES?_ The hell man. It's eight in the morning. My brain shouldn't even exist at this hour."_

Rubbing his buzz cut, Stiles chuckled nervously and took another cautionary glance at his bed before he sat at the edge of it most uncomfortably as if it weren't his own.

"Sorry man, I just really need to talk to the only guy that knows I might be…gay." The word still struggled its way out.

Stiles heard a sigh that should only pass the lips of a man that carried the entire weight of the world on his shoulders before Danny spoke again, _"Didn't we already settle this? Admiration right? You're his little fan boy._"

Stiles looked up to the ceiling and nodded, "Right and all was great and dandy for an hour or so. But you see the problem is, he came over in the middle of the night and... things happened."

Silence. _"Things."_ Danny reiterate d as if trying to understand.

"_Things_." Stiles confirmed and added emphasis to the very obscure word.

"_You two played Monopoly? What _things_ are we talking about here, you have to be specific."_ Stiles groaned in frustration, did he really have to say it out loud?

Going to the window, Stiles checked the driveway and found it absent of a Sherriff's vehicle and commenced with his story without the fear of being overheard. Stiles relived every detail of his and Derek's encounter and gave an edited version to Danny who he wasn't sure was conscious anymore by the end of his story. Blushing and feel uncomfortable, he explained to his gay acquaintance that it's not admiration at all, that what he feels for Derek is attraction and he wanted to find out Derek's feelings. Should he try to pursue an actual relationship or should he act like last night never happened? The teen was at a crossroads of indecision and each course of action was terrifying to consider. But Stiles could already guess what Derek would do when the two were in each other's presence again. Derek would try to push him away, distance himself if his regretful and pained face from last night was anything to go off of. He didn't want to lose Derek's companionship completely to this, but Stiles knew there was something more than the friendship that covered the surface. This was a chance to delve into that unknown and see where it led to. So Stiles now fully expected Danny to know exactly what to do.

"You…still there?" Stiles questioned the silence on the other end and wondered if he should feel stupid for talking to himself that entire time.

"_He obviously is attracted to you,"_ Danny's voice reenters the conversation and sounding as if he was a doctor diagnosing a worried patient's symptoms. _"Though I can't imagine why. You look like you dreamed of being a G.I. Joe who got rejected and you're still one funny looking dude even if you had hair."_

"Thanks." Stiles deadpanned.

"_Anyway, I can understand your concerns. But you have to decide if whatever you choose to do is worth the consequences. If you love him," _Stiles cringed at the word,_ "and don't tell him, you'll be repressed and stuck in the friend zone. Tell him and he feels the same—which makes since giving the fact he actually _touched_ you—_" Stiles rolled his eyes, "_then its happily ever after in a way I never want to imagine."_

"Yes, but you're leaving out the possibility that he doesn't feel the same way I do and it destroys our shaky friendship to the point of it being finished for good." Stiles mentioned and tried not to pay attention to how his heart clinched at the thought.

"_Well there is that possibility. But all the odds are in your favor and everything will most likely work out for the best. I thought you were braver than this Stilinski."_ Danny was trying to goad Stiles into action but the teen still felt uncertain. He wished he could tell Danny everything about their circumstances then maybe the guy wouldn't be so adamant on the outcome. But he knew it was inadvisable. Stiles let out a loud resigning breath, one that stated he made a decision.

"I _want_ to talk to him about last night. I want to tell him that I'm okay with what happened. _More _than just okay. That I l-like him."

"_Good now let me sleep. Oh and Stiles? Good luck." _There was a hint of a smile detected in Danny's voice before the first string lacrosse player hung up his end of the line. It made Stiles smile despite his predicament. He didn't want to dwell on the fact that there was a "but" coming up in his earlier declaration and instead felt gratitude towards Danny for listening to his problems for the second time.

"Thanks." Stiles said quietly even though Danny was long gone and back in Danny land doing whatever Dannys do in their dreams.

Stiles flung his head back onto the mattress, now feeling as if the bed was a sanctuary instead of a bed of nails and looked to the ceiling. It felt amazing to be curled up on a bed that Derek had touched him on the previous night. It felt warm.

He had to talk to Derek. Today.

...

That evening when Stiles drove up to the Hale residence a stone sank in his gut at the sight of two familiar vehicles stationary on the front lawn. One he recognized with a hint of resentment from watching Scott getting in on the passenger's side of it each day after school. The other, a large black SUV that sat next to Allison's car was the one that Chris Argent drove the last time Stiles had encountered the man in front of Derek's home. Why were the Argents there together? Was this father-daughter bonding time, killing the alpha werewolf? No…they wouldn't. They're honorable people and big on morality. Stiles had to remind himself that there was an enemy coming much more formidable than the just Chris Argent and his werewolf dating daughter.

After common sense washed away his paranoia, Stiles walked towards the house with a curiosity that overrode his reason for dropping by in the first place. The teen whisked through the door without bothering to knock and immediately set eyes upon all of them. None looked surprised by his sudden appearance (though Scott was holding back a fierce scowl) and immediately his eyes landed on Derek Hale. All curiosity as to why the extra company flew out the window when Derek's own eyes connected with his.

The alpha was actually fully clothed for once in a buttoned down shirt that didn't look like it had faced Armageddon and some casual jeans of matching quality. Looking down—and yes, he even put on shoes. His face was freshly shaved (by what means it was a mystery) and eyes absent of their violent red tinge. Derek looked like a shade of his old self again, but Stiles knew the man before him now a lot better than he had a few months ago. And in knowing him, Stiles grew to…_like_ him. In a betrayal, his heart fluttered and Derek's eyebrows dipped lower in reaction.

"Stiles. Hey." Scott spoke up first, moving forward from their small gathering by the side of the stairs. Stiles ripped his eyes from Derek to land on his best friend and his train of thought refocused on the very obvious slight that was directed at him.

"How come you didn't call me?" He felt hurt really. He didn't let it show on his face or through his voice however. At first he wanted to direct the question to Derek but thought better of it and kept his eyes on his foot shuffling friend.

Even though he could tell Scott felt uneasy, the younger werewolf hardened his facial features, "Look, I meant what I said the other day in class. I don't want you to be a part of this. This isn't your life. It doesn't ever have to be."

Stiles felt as if someone had just slapped him in the face. And one quick glance at Derek told the teen right away Derek wholeheartedly agreed with Scott. A stinging in the undistinguishable back part of his nose told Stiles that he felt close to crying. There was no way he'd do that. Even if the werewolves insisted that assistance from a human like Stiles was unnecessary, that didn't mean Stiles would be okay without them. What about _his_ needs?

"And what I said in return bears no weight in the matter? I'm as much a part of this as you are, so _stop_ treating me like I'm this fragile figurine that'll break if you squeeze too hard and let me _help_ you!" Stiles brushed past Scott and felt as if he had brushed up against a brick wall and faltered but kept walking in defiance until he reached the others who were met up in what looked to have been a living room at one point.

"So what did I miss?" Stiles asked obstinately, eyes flickering from Derek to Chris Argent.

The elder Argent held a glint in his eyes that gave away his amusement on what just took place but spoke nothing of it.

"You, Mr. Stilinski were fortunate enough to walk in just after the "cordial" greetings where exchanged. You have missed nothing of importance. Now, if you three are quite finished, let me explain why I'm here."

Stiles felt flustered. He was the one holding everyone up by being there. Did he really not belong? The teen pushed those depressing thoughts back as he watched Chris Argent pull out a folded paper from his jacket pocket, undid the creases made and extended it to Scott who stood stiffly beside Stiles and Allison.

Scott took the page and glanced over its content. Stiles read over his shoulder out loud.

"_Cabon County Family Massacred, Children Missing. _What is this?" Stiles looked up from a graphic black and white photo of blood splatters on a mundane wall with a raised eyebrow.

"That," Argent began, pointing to the article, "is them. That is their work."

Stiles read on silently with a heavy block of dread on his chest. The adults in the home, a mother, and a father were shot in the head with bullets that happened to be pure silver as described in the article. Relatives close to the family state that the couple had adopted two kids of the age of ten and those kids were now missing. There was no trace of their blood in the carnage and no evidence pointing to a suspect. The attack was so unexpected that there were no leads; the case was already turning cold even though it occurred only a week prior.

"The children—" Scott starts off and Argent finishes his speculation.

"—were inherent werewolves, yes." The older man says gravely, eyes darkened with grave thoughts.

"They…killed children?" Allison spoke up in disbelief, her eyes widening at the prospect.

"And these people, they were humans. Why kill them?" Stiles asked through the sick feeling rising in his gut. These people were monsters.

Argent sighed, "Mercy is not an option for these men. You harbor their kind, you die. You're a werewolf, you suffer. And then you die. It's a clear message of intolerance. The silver bullet in a human being's skull is that message."

Stiles imagined being one of those humans staring deep into the barrel of a hunter's gun just for helping Derek. He couldn't fight off the chill that ran its course through his spine.

Scott spoke up again, "This happened in Montana almost a week ago. They should be here by now."

Nodding, Argent went on. "This was not the only case. I have picked up on several murders and disappearances similar to the one in Montana and every one of them leads a trail back to Michigan. This isn't a coincidence. And yes, the last article I found that resembled these attacks was situated in Nevada; these hunters should be in California by now." Chris Argent sneered as the word 'hunters' left his lips, his hatred of the men was undeniable.

"What do we do now? Obviously waving a white flag and explaining there is a huge misunderstanding is out of the question." Stiles felt quite certain that there was no way to escape this confrontation without bloodshed.

Argent looked at a silent as stone and just as stoic Derek Hale before addressing the small group.

"Well, before we all arrived I had a chat with Mr. Hale here and it's been decided that if we catch wind of these hunters at all, we shall discard of them as discreetly as possible. But for now I need all of you to just keep your heads down and to not draw attention to yourselves. Now being a hunter myself, I know these men will stay as long as needed to find where werewolves reside. Keeping track of the moon cycles, I know the full moon will shine in a week. The closer it gets, the more animalistic your kind becomes. This will make it easier for a hunter to find you if they're in the vicinity." Chris looked pointedly at the youngest werewolf in attendance and Scott looked back defiantly.

"If you get the urge to howl at the moon, I strongly suggest you take up residence in that cellar until the urge dies down. Other than that, I want all underage parties to go on living a normal life." Argent looked to his daughter who looked ready to disagree but nodded, then to Scott who definitely wanted to disagree but stopped when Allison's hand grabbed his, and lastly to Stiles who couldn't affirm or disaffirm his agreement. He looked away instead. Argent still didn't understand Derek's predicament and there was no way he was sharing that with a hunter, honorable or not.

"Now that I have effectively cautioned all involved, I expect everyone to heed my advice. These extremists are no joke. They will kill you for supporting or loving a werewolf. Keep your eyes open and report to me of any strange new faces in town. I'll take my leave now." Argent nodded his departure to Hale who returned the gesture and the older man took long strides to the door.

Allison smiled small at Stiles, "Be careful, Stiles." Her hand that held Scott's slipped from their connection as she started forward and Scott's feet didn't follow. She turned to give her boyfriend a questioning look and Scott answered.

"Just give me a moment, I'll be out in a sec."

Looking from Scott to Stiles then back to Scott, Allison nodded and drifted through the front door, leaving it open. Stiles should've known that not much stays secret between the hunter's daughter and Scott. She most likely knew everything that was going on between the three of them. He didn't know if he should feel angry about it or not. He was too preoccupied to care.

The tension built to the ceiling as the three were left alone in the slowly darkening home, Stiles had a hard time looking at either of the werewolves.

Scott cleared his throat in preparation to speak, "I just uh, wanted to say to you that I'm sorry I didn't call you when I found out about this. I just want what's best for you."

Stiles tried to lighten up as a mutual peace offering, "You know, for someone who is the same age, you shouldn't be spouting mommy phrases at me."

His best friend laughed slightly; it was more than Stiles had received in a couple of days from the younger werewolf.

"I know. I just want to do all that I can to keep someone I care about alive." Stiles knew he meant every word and smiled.

"I get that." Stiles gently patted Scott's deltoid and that was enough to appease the werewolf for now. Scott nodded and made his way to cross the threshold but turned back around when he didn't hear Stiles following behind.

Stiles smiled tightly, "I'm staying behind."

There was a hint of defiance in his tone that left no room for argument. Scott looked unsure what to do. Stiles made the decision for him.

"Go bring Allison home. I have to talk to Derek…alone."

Scott looked from his best friend to Derek and Stiles looked at Derek. The silent man was as unreadable as ever.

Scott held back the urge to share his objection to this and gave one last scathing look at the alpha before closing the door behind him. It didn't take long to hear car doors slam and an engine turn on before Allison's and Scott's departure from the Hale property. But during that time Stiles' body become so stiff from nerves, he could barely recall to breathe. The two were alone now.

Derek finally graced the walls with his breathy voice, "He thinks I'll attack you as soon as his back is turned."

Stiles snorted, his body slowly thawing from its rigidity, "But I know differently…"

The teen faced the alpha who already had his vintage green eyes upon him.

"So…I guess you know that Scott knows what's going on with you. Sorry about that." Stiles knew he was responsible for Derek's secret getting out.

Derek gave a resigned sigh, the most emotion Stiles had seen from the older man that night.

"He paid me a visit as soon as he found out what we've been up to, I believe. He saw that you got injured and was justifiably livid. But he told me everything I already knew. Things that my mind has been shouting at me from the night you fell asleep in the woods: this is _reckless_ and _dangerous. _I could hurt you…" Derek's frown grew heavier, "…And I have."

The shame that graced Derek's face as his eyes were cast downward made Stiles feel the warmth of his own embarrassment creeping up on his cheeks.

"When have you ever hurt me?" Stiles asked incredibly and stepped closer to the larger man. Derek stepped back.

"Last night I—"

"I recall what happened last night with a clarity that has me almost back in the moment and _nobody_ was crying out in pain." They were already breaching the topic of last night's occurrence. Here goes nothing…or everything.

"No. The moment you set eyes on me today, I heard your heart. You're afraid of me—as you should be!" Derek growled out loudly and a swift fist punched the fire licked railing of the stairs. A small beam on the railing snapped easily from the force and the jarring sound filled the foyer. Stiles jumped but didn't hesitate in his approach on the distraught man. Grabbing Derek's steel tight fist to stop the werewolf's attempt at ruining an already broken home, Stiles yelled, "Listen to me you self-conscious idiot! My heart didn't skip because I'm scared of you, it's because I love you god dammit!"

The yell had carried through the cavity of the house, echoing shortly the irritated and slightly anxious tone of his voice. Derek directed his gaze to Stiles who was sporting a shocked look on his face. Did he really just say the "L" word? He totally meant "like" like! Something in those green eyes changed and it wasn't the color. That emotion made Stiles feel like he was back in his bedroom with Derek pinning him to the wall. Stiles dropped his hold on the older man but Derek reconnected them by pulling at Stiles' forearm; forcing the teen closer until his smaller body was flush against Derek's clothed front and feeling the taller man's respirations against his own.

"You love me?" Derek asked but studied Stiles' brown eyes for the answer. It was hard to form a functioning thought much less a reply as Derek's body heat seeped through and found his skin, turning him into a limp noodle.

His eyelids fluttered and struggled to stay open as he forced himself to look back up at the werewolf and parted his lips, "I—"

Derek interrupted with his lips firmly pressed to Stiles' lips. His eyes didn't deny the surprise he felt. Derek was kissing him. Derek's own eyes were steadily open but were relaxed and calmly gauging the teen's reaction. The werewolf angled his head and moved his lips, deepening the connection of their mouths. Stiles hand shot up to twist in the fabric of Derek's nice shirt at his rib cage and moaned; the sound was softly muted by Derek's unwavering onslaught and Stiles let his eyes fall shut. He couldn't deny how the contents of his head suddenly became as light as air or that how much he was enjoying his first kiss ever. It felt amazing. He loved how Derek held him and how he clung to Derek as the man continued to kiss him. He didn't mind that the activities from last night didn't resurface and just enjoyed Derek's harsh hot exhalations on his wet lips. Stiles didn't want it to stop but as that thought passed, Derek retracted until an inch separated their mouths. Stiles fought open his eyelids and looked from Derek's lips to the turmoil of those now ruby eyes.

"You shouldn't love me." Derek spoke in a heavy voice, one that held his arousal and dread.

Stiles couldn't recant that word and knew he really didn't want to after that kiss. The arm that resided around the small of Derek's back tightened its hold.

"But I do." He said in his own aroused voice. That time his heart didn't stutter or skip but kept lugging blood through his body at a strong fast pace.

Derek growled and his upper lip rose and showed off a fang Stiles hadn't laid eyes on in weeks. Derek had completely loosened his hold on the teen, making Stiles shiver in the cool dark space of the house. Stiles dropped his hold on Derek's now creased shirt and regarded the werewolf with a questioning look.

"What's the matter?"

Derek turned his back to the inquisitive teen, his back heaving from the strong breaths he was taking.

"I want you to leave." Derek said through ragged breaths, his hand clutched the nearest wall to support his weight and Stiles could see in the little light that was left that his claws had resurfaced as well. He didn't understand.

"No, I don't want to leave." Stiles walked the small distance Derek had put between them and laid a palm on the man's hunched over shoulder blade.

"Leave!" Derek whipped around and barked the order in Stiles' face. The human could only withstand so much and gave into a slight fear, backing up out of the living room and into the foyer. Derek kept him moving backwards until his back hit the door. There was a look of rage behind the fire in the werewolf's eyes that Stiles could not comprehend. What was driving Derek to do this?

"Why are you doing this?" Stiles asked weakly, a pain in his chest grew as that hardened look on Derek's face never lifted.

"Because you are a weight that I can't bear any longer! You're driving me insane and I want it to stop. I'm tired of your persistency, and you coming here every day, pushing my limits of control. I'm a monster that hasn't tasted human blood yet but it seems like you want me to cross that line and take your life. Is that what you want? To die? Do you want me to rip into your body and bite into your heart while it still beats? I want to _kill_ you, do you understand?" The entire time, Stiles couldn't get a word in edgewise and every attempt grew less vehement as the meaning of Derek's words set in. This was Derek's response to his love? It was as he feared wasn't it? That everything would be thrown out of balance by his confession and he'd go back to being completely alone.

Derek laughed harshly and Stiles had to look away from the dark site of a man who was more animal than human, "Priceless. You love me. You love a monster. You love me when I'd love to see your entrails. How comical is that?"

Stiles winced and swallowed thickly, "Then what's stopping you from killing me?"

Derek used his claw to anchor up Stiles' chin until the teen had no choice but to look into those cold eyes that resembled the eyes of Peter Hale.

"Because I like it here. Killing you isn't worth being displaced." Derek explained evenly. Stiles felt like throwing up. Stiles gasped as a hand roughly grasped the neckline of his shirt and pulled him off the door. The door was ripped open and Stiles registered the sound of the metal hinges falling to the floor from the unnatural force exerted on it. The teen was flung out onto the veranda, his feet not catching him as he tumbled down the stairs and onto the brown dirt of the front yard.

Stiles looked blearily up at the werewolf who looked down on him with the eyes of someone who didn't recognize the scum below him.

"Never come back here or I'll just have to make an exception and bleed you dry. I'll just have to kill every hunter that comes for me as well. It's not like they can stop me." Derek walked back inside and shut the door by its remaining hinges, the glass panels that Stiles remembered replacing in the door's face shattering on impact and raining down. Stiles immediately heard Derek's yell that turned into growls behind that door. He couldn't see him anymore but heard next his dreadful roar. The teen's heart sunk as the inner contents of the house were thrown and ripped apart. It sounded as if a tornado was birthed inside those walls. An object Stiles didn't bother identifying came flying out of a newly replaced window pane and onto the lawn and that got the teen to his feet; his legs automatically carrying him to his jeep as Stiles heaved the air in and out of his lungs.

He was truly and purely frightened.

Shakily, he finally got his key to fit into the ignition after a few failed attempts and started the vehicle. Dirt and rocks kicked up wildly from the spinning tires as the gas pedal was pressed firmly to the floor, and Stiles peeled out of the grove, a full out howl followed his departure.

...

There was a statement replaying through his mind that echoed like a bad memory which crossed the ages as his powerful legs carried him farther into the untamed woods. He was recklessly dashing through the trees with no inhibitions clouding his already haunted brain. He hit a maturely aged pine with his left flank and the tree stood no chance, breaking sharply at the base and came raining down. A thunderous sound filled the chilled night air as the branches and trunk connected with the forest floor, and erupted the surrounding ground into small quakes from the impact before everything went still once more. He continued to fly through the vastness of this forest, heart racing under his pelt and breathing uneven from the exertion. He hit more trees and all bowed to his barbarism; he dodged their avenging limbs as they came down around him and knew he was close. So close. He didn't slow down until the very lip of the chasm came into site. He leaped down into the deep dark abyss willingly and gracefully hit the new level of the forest floor.

His red eyes took in the ground below him as he remembered that day with a forlornness taking up residence in his chest. He had been made aware of his love for another being that day. How long has it been since he could think of someone fondly and held them dear?

Chris Argent's words replayed again from the conversation that took place before McCall and the youngest Argent arrived.

"_It's fortunate in a way that you are alone, Hale. They cannot hurt any more innocent people."_

Derek howled to the canopy above.

...

_An: Wow. So I believe this is my biggest chapter yet. Again, I prostrate myself in your presence for the late late late! chapter and hope you enjoyed it. I get so giddy thinking of Derek's and Stiles' first kiss. EEEEE! Sorry for the myriad of mistakes riddled in this chapter. Review and stick around for chapter 10! _


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